ACT 5: BIOHAZARD World of the Undead COMPLETE
by noctorro
Summary: You know Chris, Jill, Leon, and Claire ... all survivors of Umbrella's disasters. But what happens when you throw a 15 year old kid in their place? An account of an amateur survivor's story in the nightmare that was Raccoon City. EPILOGUE UPDATED
1. Prologue: The Quest for a Firearm

                When I was younger, if you told me I'd survive a city-wide disaster all by myself, I'd probably have laughed in your face and told you to get a life. I mean look at me, a fifteen year old teenager just barely over five and a half feet tall, scrawny as hell, and no experience in self defense whatsoever. If you told me that I fought off monsters and zombies straight out from corny horror movies, that I single handedly survived the wrath of multiple madmen and made it out with barely a scratch, I would've recommended you to an insane asylum. Well, at least I had that much power. 

                You see, I was on work experience at the Raccoon City police department for my school. It was a requirement to get at least one hundred hours of volunteer experience in my field - at the time, it was law. So, what better place to gain that experience than a police precinct? God, and I thought life was tough back then. I was scrambling as much money as I could to maintain a decent lifestyle. I have no parents and quite honestly, I don't know what happened to them. 

                All I know is that I moved to Raccoon City by myself when I was around thirteen years old. I had a mentor, and I didn't even know his name. I only knew him by "Mr. Masters". I never actually met the guy, but I knew he was responsible for providing me with the necessary one thousand dollar donations to my bank account at two week intervals. With enough money saved up, I moved to the city from my home in Osaka, Japan. I wasn't actually born there - I'm ethnically Chinese … some kind or whatever, I don't even know from which part of the country. I managed to get a nice apartment in the suburbs of Raccoon City, just next to a few condominium houses. It was a peaceful place, birds singing every morning, trees and flowers blooming every which way. And being in the American Midwest, the weather wasn't too bad either, right beside the calm Pacific Ocean. Raccoon Secondary School was a great place too. There weren't too many kids in the school, and everybody in my graduating class knew each other. I mean there was the oddball rebel in every level that just got rejected by everyone else but in general, it was the picture perfect life. I don't know why I decided to study in America; perhaps it was because of the interest in American culture that I harbor. 

                Where was I? Right. So I worked part-time in the Raccoon City Precinct. My manager was this hulking officer named Marvin Branagh. I called him Marv and he hated that, haha. He was a good guy though, sometimes buying me lunch when I wasted my money on cigarettes or something. Yeah I know smoking is bad, but can you blame me? With my kind of lifestyle, I wouldn't have had a hope in hell of surviving without some kind of stress relief habit. Sides, it's not like I was addicted or anything. 

                Through Marvin, I got to know the other workers at the precinct. Off the top of my head, I remember the chief - Brian Irons. The guy was a freak. I've been to the office a few times, delivering his mail and whatever letters the secretary pumped out. The walls of his office were adorned with heads of various animals he killed on multiple hunting trips. The guy had wolf heads, moose heads, stuffed pheasants … even this one stuffed whole tiger. The thing was fucking massive and completely stuffed, although made to look like it was real. I'll admit, sometimes I thought the thing would jump out at me and eat me. Funny how a few months after I started working there, there have been things that threatened to eat me, but I'll save the details for later. 

                There were some good people that I met though. I remember Rebecca Chambers. She was a good girl, kinda cute although she was a few years older than me. She was a little timid and I've sat down and had coffee with her on a few occasions and I got to know her a bit better. She was new to the police department, fresh out of university. I know eighteen years old is the perfect age to get into university but this girl was some kind of chemistry whiz. At the time, she'd just been recruited into a special division of the R.P.D. called the S.T.A.R.S., standing for Special Tactics and Rescue Squad. This special unit consisted of a bunch of hotshot police officers with a lot of experience in their life and who were considered the cream of the crop when it came to their jobs. 

                There was Officer Christopher Redfield. Personally, I was always intimidated by the guy. He had a short temper - and I mean really short. He's never really yelled at me but on a few occasions, I've actually seen him hit criminals with his bare fist. He looked like some hardcore army guy to, with a deep bass in his voice and short brown hair cut close to his head. And not just that, but the guy was huge. I swear his muscles had muscles he was so scary. I think he's got a humorous side but whenever he tried joking with me I just sorta smiled and pretended that I found his jokes funny. He also liked to ruffle my hair a lot whenever he said something to me, which was usually, "Hey, how's it going, squirt?" or "Try not to deliver my porn subscription letters to Jill's office again." He'd say stupid things like that, talking to me like I was some kid. Well, maybe saying "ruffling my hair" is an understatement. Maybe that's what he tried to do but instead, he'd practically crush my head into my shoulders while rubbing my hair, ruining the half hour gel job I'm put it through every morning. He apparently found it amusing. He's a good guy overall too, just like everyone else. He was just kinda scary, is all. 

Then there was Jill Valentine, not quite as cute as Rebecca but she had a nice face with these gentle brown eyes that were never harsh to look at. She had shoulder length brown hair but always had it hidden under her S.T.A.R.S. hat. She was like a mom to me, always giving me advice on which direction to go in life. "Chase your dreams," she would always say. She's an expert at picking locks. I've never actually seen her do it, but I've heard from the rest of the staff that when they ever lost their keys, it would always be Officer Valentine to the rescue. It was strange though. She never struck me as the lock picking kind. She had the personality of gold and I'm not kidding when I say she could've melted the coldest heart. 

And speaking of cold hearts, that Albert Wesker, leader of one branch of the S.T.A.R.S., I'm almost willing to bet my life that his heart was made of stone. Granite to be exact, you know, the really cold kind that's solid and impossible to break. He always wore these sunglasses, Gucci brand I think, and he _never took them off. Of the month and a half that I spent at that precinct, I would always see Wesker walking up and down the hallway past my work desk and he'd always have those damn sunglasses on, even on cloudy days. And wearing sunglasses indoors on a cloudy day is a serious crime against the fashion industry - not that I would know, of course. _

                I wouldn't say that I was especially close to these people, but I know I had formed a bond of some nature or other with Rebecca, Marv, Jill and Chris - well, enough to refer to them on a first name basis. I always had such respect for the members of S.T.A.R.S. and one day, I hoped to be one of them. But all the bullshit started with the strange things that started happening around the Raccoon City vicinity. There were these strange reports of murders, of people finding mangled bodies that had been washed downstream from the mountains into the city's water supply. I was kinda gross actually. I snuck into the photo labs and took a look at the developing pictures myself. 

                Repeating reports of events of the same nature kept being filed until one fateful day in June, something huge happened. There was an explosion in the Arklay Mountains just a few miles from the main city area. Jill, Rebecca and Chris came back with these crazy stories that would've made a good scary movie about mutated animals, zombies … things that nobody believed. And to be honest, I never believed a word they said either. I mean, would you believe it if someone came up to you and told them they shot walking dead people to death? But the only thing I didn't understand was the deaths of the other S.T.A.R.S. members. That was the only thing that had me confused and rumors floated around the precinct for awhile about what really happened that one night in the mountains. I didn't know what to believe but whatever information leaked out of the mouths of the higher ups, I was always shielded from them and I carried on my life as usual, even though I could see that my co-workers were going through a lot of stress. 

                I should have listened to their stories though. Because the events that occurred three months later seriously wiped out more than half of Raccoon City's population. If only we believed what the surviving S.T.A.R.S. told us. But by the time I realized that, it was too late. The next thing I knew, I was in the middle of a war zone. And the war was being fought by the remaining officers of the police precinct and hordes of the undead. I don't know how to describe the feeling of surprise that engulfed me the moment I saw a zombie in real life standing right in front of me, heading my way ready to rip out my guts and eat them. Marv came just in time though, grabbing my collar and pulling me into the protective heavy oak doors of the precinct. I was so consumed with horror and confusion that I couldn't even move. 

By that time, Chris, Rebecca and another surviving S.T.A.R.S. member, Barry Burton who I never really got to know well, had left for Europe. I don't know what happened to Jill though, but I prayed for her safety nonetheless. Hell, I'm not even gonna lie to you when I say I prayed more for my own safety! Marv was injured in the battle, Jill was missing and Chris and Rebecca managed to escape Raccoon before it turned into a virus infected community of undead creatures. They were the lucky ones. I was all alone with nobody to help me. 

That's when my adventure began, standing alone in main hall without even a gun; the surrounding air quiet as death. I could hear the slow shuffling of footsteps from behind the door northwest to my location as I stared blankly at the same oak doors that Marv had pulled me through just a few hours ago. I didn't even know where he was at that point. All I knew was that I had to get out of Raccoon. And that was when I, Kenneth Feng, a fifteen year old kid on work experience took the city's firearm laws and threw them out the window. I went looking for a gun. 


	2. Chapter 1: Meeting the Rookie Cop

**Flamestrike****: I'll definitely keep typing. I've got a lot of ideas in my head that I need to get down on paper. I know the story is a little boring at first as it only shows Kenneth running through the halls escaping zombies. But the action picks up towards the end of this chapter as more characters are introduced and the story get just a little deeper with every chapter. **

**Starscream****: Thanks! I'm glad you like it and I hope you will continue to like it as I go on. Your reviews (and other people's reviews too) are really what keep me writing in the end. **

**RBL_M1A2Tanker:** Yeah, I decided to make this story the Act 2 story instead. I needed some other adventure before continuing on with Kenny's involvement with the SF storyline.

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From the main hall, I turned right and walked through some double doors into the receptionist office. Just like the rest of the building, it was dead quiet in here as well. If I was alone in this hellhole of a city, I didn't know what I'd do. I cleared my throat, and spoke in a trembling voice.

"Hello?" I called out, hearing my cracking voice resonate off the white painted cement walls. There was no response, but I didn't want to give up. "Is anybody here?" I walked slowly and cautiously about the room, checking every nook and cranny for anything that might jump out at me. I headed over to the receptionist windows over from the right of the double doors and stared in on the other side, looking for some sign of life. The officers work tables were on that side of the room. Lockers lined the walls that were regularly neat and shiny underneath the neon lights of the building were now splattered with blood, hung open on broken hinges, or were dented, or even all three, their contents spewing all over the dirty tile floor. The desks too had papers spread in a disorganized fashion all over their surfaces, and even all over the floor. Come to think of it, there was a lot of bullshit on the floor from pieces of clothing, patrol gear, rotten food, a gun … _a gun!! _

I smashed my fists violently against the glass windows but they were specially designed to stop any detainees from assaulting the receptionists. I pulled my fists back and cradled them in my stomach, the pain exploding from my knuckles. Looks like I was going to have to take the long way around. 

I reached the back of the room and headed towards another door that lead to a wide hallway that turned right at the far end. I knew that walking near the windows was a death wish. Don't even ask me what I was thinking then, I had no idea. All I remember is just heading over to the window to see if anyone else was alive outside. All I saw were the streets blanketed in shadows. Some of the street lights had gone out and the wind had some kind of ghostly howl to it, as if casting some kind of a death spell on the entire city. 

That's when I saw it - these sunken eyes with eyelids that were peeling right off. His nose was half gone and I could see exactly where the cartilage turned to bone. The skin of his face was a disgusting rotting gray color and had large boils on it that looked like they were ready to pop. The scariest part was the eyes though. They were green and had pupils that shrunk to the size of pinheads. The zombie groaned and scratched at the window, trying to get in. That's when I saw another one behind it. There were windows that lined the entire hallway and there were tons of zombies this time, all of them with pieces of flesh hanging from their faces emitting these horrible tortured moans, each one heading towards different windows hoping to smash their way inside. 

I fucking lost it at that point. I dashed towards the far end of the hall. I remember there was some kind of switch that closed the metal shutters. As I turned the corner, my caught the gray metal box, its cover already hanging open. There was a green and red button reading open and close respectively. I smothered the red button with my palms, forcing as much strength as I could. I wanted those damn shutters closed! The electronic hum that pursued shortly after was like heaven to my ears - the first bit of heaven I've gotten since this undead bullshit started. 

A piece of metal cover for each window slid down taking bits of zombie finger and rotting skin from other areas with them as they protectively fastened themselves over the fragile glass windows. I stood rooted to the spot for a moment catching my breath. The amount of relief that I felt was indescribable. I could only stand, stare and a few moments later, collapse onto the ground. I just sunk my head into my arms as I sat just under the metal box that saved my life and stared at the ground. I felt hot tears seep out of my eyes, but I didn't think I was crying … at least I wasn't trying to cry. 

Then I remembered my quest to get a gun. If I wanted to survive this nightmare, I was going to need some kind of weapon. I reluctantly stood up on my shaky legs and continued right down the hallway, my footsteps echoing throughout the room against a backdrop of undead moans coming from beyond the metal shutters. 

The next hall was a lot more cramped than the last one that I had just left behind me through that blue weak wooden door. I noticed the windows here had all been smashed open … which meant some of those monsters were already in here. The thought sent a chill down my spine but I pushed on, careful to stay away from the windows this time, my back pressed painfully against the opposite wall. There was about four feet of space between the windows and the walls, the hallway was that narrow. The right turn that snaked around the conference room was coming up. I thought I was almost safe and decided to make a run for it.

Wrong. Just as I headed for the conference room doors, something cold and slimy grabbed a hold of my collar. Something equally gross took a hold of the back of my neck and began pulling me backwards. I turned around to see a zombie hauling me towards its rotten face. If there was one thing intact in a zombie's body, it was definitely its teeth. The disgust that swallowed my stomach, the fear that once again took over my mind and the adrenaline that pumped through my limbs somehow gave me the power to tear myself away from the zombie's death grip as I ran. I got a safe distance from the windows alright, but I still felt the cold, slimy thing holding onto my neck, sending deep chills all the way down to the base of my spine. I took a hold of it and ripped it off painfully, feeling its nails scratch the skin on my neck. It wasn't too deep though. It was the zombie's hand. I threw it to the floor upon recognition and kicked it away, watching it fly towards the wall and bounce off harmlessly back to me and I jumped. God, I laugh now when I think about how pathetic I was back then. I realized it was time to stop acting like a pussy and get down to business. I couldn't go on having a mental breakdown whenever I saw a zombie. 

I had to think logically. Zombies were slow. They couldn't run, only shuffle. They were also decaying which meant they could be easily torn apart. All I needed was a good stick or something to beat them to death. Upon realizing this, I calmed down a little and I continued onwards on my quest for a weapon. Yeah, a broomstick or a metal pipe would've worked, but somehow, I just wanted a gun. Maybe it was because I've never held a gun in my life and I've seen it on TV a million times. Well there was one lying on the ground in the office and that's where I was headed. I could already feel the cool metal of the handle in my hand, the feeling driving me on. 

                                                                *              *              *

"Fuck!" I cried, clasping the cold metal knob, attempting to turn it, but the damn thing wouldn't budge. In front of me was a large metal door that had seen better days with dents and scratches adorning its surface. I tried it again, hoping that I'd been dreaming the first time … but no. The blasted door was locked. I noticed a diamond shape carved just above the keyhole. It wasn't like I never noticed it before, in fact I knew that there were doors in the precinct that had the suits of cards carved just above their keyholes but I never knew what they meant. 

Whatever, if the receptionist's office was going to be locked, I could always find another weapon in the S.T.A.R.S. office. They probably had more kickass weapons there anyway. Across the hallway, past the dark room just by the fragile looking window, was the base of a staircase that led to the upper levels. I ran to my destination this time. I mean, there was little else I could do but run and scream. My adventure was getting _really repetitive at this point and I needed some excitement. I was sick of feeling like some trapped mouse in a city of cats. I wanted to fight back. _

I climbed the stairs in a hurry and took a quick note of the freaky looking statue of a warrior carved out of stone. It was just the upper body and it was holding up his arm with a sparkling diamond in his hand. It was a nice jewel and I wanted to take it, but with the grip the statue had on the thing, it was impossible to pry the jewel out. Not that I've ever tried that, I mean. Stealing is bad. 

So I entered the next room, a brightly lit hallway with a few bloodstains on the floor. Normally, the sight of blood would have freaked the daylights out of me but I'd been so conditioned to it at that point I just continued on my way to the S.T.A.R.S. office, which door, to my surprise was unlocked. They lock the damn receptionist office and leave the S.T.A.R.S. office unlocked? It seemed like they had different priorities at the R.P.D.

I stepped into the office, just as brightly lit as the hallway I came from. Everybody's work station was here, each station showing signs of their owner's personality. I headed over to Chris's desk right away. I mean the gun was lying right there among the mess of papers. It was kinda funny actually; it reminded me of my room. 

My heart nearly skipped a beat when I heard footsteps outside. A goddamned zombie was following me! I knew they were persistent but this was just crazy. I always thought they couldn't open doors. The footsteps, coming from the hallway outside stopped short of the door. Oh god, I knew they could sense me. They could smell my fear with their decomposing noses. I hid behind Wesker's desk, feeling kind of creeped out, just knowing that creepy man worked at this desk. But Wesker wasn't here but right now, I'd be relieved even to see him … and those stupid sunglasses that have been begging to come off from the day I laid eyes upon him. 

I heard the soft click of the door opening, and the heavy footsteps found their way inside the room. I clutched the gun to my heart, promising myself that if the thing got any closer, I jump out and shoot it. And it did. My adrenaline pumped body shot itself out from hiding, although my mind was screaming at me to stop. It was a cop zombie this time, not decaying like the rest of them. He was probably recently killed. 

He had brown hair that reached down to about eye level. At that first impression, I couldn't find any boils or imperfections on his skin, or at least the little skin that the police uniform showed. He was a little taller than me and bigger built too. Well, that's not saying much but knowing his rotting corpse, there was nothing he could do against a well placed bullet to the head. I aimed the gun just as the thing turned to face me, clenched my teeth, and prepared for the first time ever that I would be firing a gun. I heard the thing click, but there was no recoil. It was dead. I felt so stupid … I should've checked the thing for bullets. 

"Hey, hold on!" I thought I heard the thing say. But I was so firm in determination to kill the zombie, I couldn't be swayed. I reached for a broomstick. I know, you'll laugh at me now, fighting like a woman, but it was the closest thing to a weapon! So I swung the stick, but for a zombie, his reflexes were really quick. He raised an arm and blocked the strike, absorbing the impact with his forearm. He then grabbed the stick with his other hand and jabbed me painfully in the chest with it. The force was so great, it threw me backwards and I landed flat on my ass on the floor. I looked up to see him standing over me in victory. I knew I was done for. I had the perfect shot at the zombie but I was stupid enough to pick up an empty gun. And I now paid for that mistake with my life. He squatted down to face me eye to eye, reached his hand out to me …

… and placed it on my shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked. I opened my eyes. I was face to face with the thing alright, but he didn't look like a zombie. Just some average Joe in a cop uniform. Was he … human?! The thought of another human being alive was such an exotic thought to me, and I'd only been on my own for a few hours. I couldn't even respond. I was in so much shock. All I could do was sit there catching my breath and stare at another human face. The feeling of relief was overwhelming. 

"You … you …" was all I was able to get out. 

"It's alright," the man said, "I'm a cop. You're safe now."

"So there are others," I managed to croak out. "The R.P.D. managed to get back up. Thank god, you have no idea what a shit hole this entire city is in. There's these … _things__ and they're crawling everywhere." I had to choose my words carefully. I didn't want to sound as insane and Chris and the others did when they said the word "zombie."_

"Those zombies?" the officer replied. Okay, it was good to know I wasn't the only crazy one around these parts. "I got some bad news for you," he said, breaking the eye contact. "The R.P.D. weren't able to get any back up. I'm a cop, yes. But this is my first day on the job. My name's Leon Kennedy. What's yours?"

The words hit me like a brick. Not his name, I didn't even care to remember at that point. But he wasn't back up? "You mean … you didn't come with some S.W.A.T. team crew to clean this mess up?" I asked. 

The guy shrugged in response. "Nope. It's just me."

"We're all gonna die," I said, getting up, dusting myself off. "Two normal people in a city of cannibals - how are we going to survive? I attacked you with a fucking broom stick."

"Well," Leon said, reaching into his back pocket, "I found these that might help with your empty gun." He pulled out a red box, built like a matchbox and slid the compartment open. Inside was stocked to the brim with shiny handgun shells. "It's yours," he said, putting the box into my hand.

"Are you the only one?" I asked again. "Maybe not with a special team but … is there anyone else left in this city alive?"

He nodded, much to my relief. "There's a girl running around here somewhere," he said. "Her name's Claire, and that's all I got out of her. We were supposed to meet here. I was looking for her when I ran into you."  

"The more the merrier," I said. "Let's go find this girl. We stand a better chance of surviving if we stick together."

But he shook his head in response. "I don't think that's such a good idea. You have any training with a firearm?"

"No." I wasn't about to lie to a cop. I was a law student and I know how those have severe penalties. 

"Just what I thought. If someone at your age did, I'd be a little worried."

"I've been working at the Raccoon precinct for three months now! Don't even think …"

"Ooh, three months! I lower my head in shame in front of the veteran!" Leon shot back sarcastically. I just met the guy and already I wasn't appreciating his patronizing. 

"Shut up."

"Okay look, seriously, I want you to stay here. You've done a pretty good job surviving by yourself this far, but from here on, I want you to let me go first. I'll clear a path for us to get through and I'll come get you when I'm done."

"What the hell do you think I am?" I cried out. I couldn't believe he was treating me like some baby. This was a survival situation and we had to work together to get out! Right? 

"This is my job," Leon explained patiently. "I'm not about to blow my first day by putting an innocent civilian at risk. Now I'm going to head out and make sure the coast is clear. I'll be back soon."

"Good luck getting your paycheck," I spat bitterly as he left the room. Leon didn't bother looking back as he closed the door behind him. Sure, he was a little by-the-book, but I guess I didn't mind living with it for the next few hours if it saved my life. I heard his footsteps disappear down the opposite end of the hall. 

I grabbed a seat at Chris's desk and opened up all his drawers. Maybe there were extra boxes of bullets lying around somewhere. Instead, I found some rather interesting newspaper clippings, all about the strange incidences that occurred in the outskirts of Raccoon City, just prior to the disaster that struck. I was totally sidetracked, reading about the detailed mauling of various victims of varying ages. These zombies didn't discriminate. They ate anybody! 

Just then the door opened. "Ah, you're finally back," I said, not looking up from my reading. But there was no response. Instead, all I heard was a click of a gun safety going off. I looked up slowly from the clippings I held in my hands and in my face was the barrel of a handgun. My assailant was a man - definitely not Leon. This guy was much more rugged with stubble across his chin. He had dark brown hair slicked neatly back. He wore a grayish blue wife beater tucked into a pair of jeans, showing off a muscularly built torso with a strange black tattoo running down his right arm. I swallowed the lump that had instantly formed in my throat. "Leon … get back here …" I said in a coarse whisper. But the man grinned menacingly and prepared to pull the trigger. 


	3. Chapter 2: Ride Through Raccoon

                "Oh god, please don't shoot," I pleaded, holding my hands up, showing very clearly that I had nothing on me. Plus, my yellow T-shirt hanging over a loose pair of black shorts made it nearly impossible for me to hide any weapons. Hopefully this guy could see that - or maybe he was one of those crazies that turned mental after realizing the state that Raccoon City was in. 

                There was an audible click from the handgun that was pointed at my face, a sign that gun had been put back on safety mode. Nonetheless, the scary looking man didn't remove the weapon from it's point blank range. "Who are you?" he asked in a gruff, authoritative voice. "Why are you snooping around in the S.T.A.R.S. office?"

                "I … I was just bored, y'know?" I stammered. "Looking for some valuable reading material!"

                "A likely story," he said sarcastically, "in the middle of a ghost town. In this kind of situation, there are more important things to do than read. That is of course, unless you're some spy sent in by Umbrella!"

                "What the fuck?!" I cried out. "A pharmaceutical company sending in spies?!" I didn't want to mock this guy but let's get serious here. Umbrella produced nothing in Raccoon City except for drugs and the odd household cleaning item. Suggesting that they would sent in spies was ludicrous. "Yes, they sent me in to make sure the zombies weren't downing their bottles of Aspirin."

                "Do you think you're funny?!" The safety went off again and I kept my hands up, in fact I raised them a little higher this time around. 

                "I'm sorry!" I said right away. "I'm not a spy. I work here at the precinct for work experience so I can graduate in two years!" A funny look crossed the man's face and he removed the gun, letting out a slight chuckle. 

"That's more like it," he said, tucking the handgun into his belt buckle. 

"Now tell me who you are," I demanded, clutching my chest in relief. 

"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea, especially when you're working in a police station."

"Well what are you doing here?" I asked.

"I'm looking for a friend," he replied, "who goes by the name of Rebecca Chambers. She saved my life once and now I'm here to do the same for her."

"Becky?!" I cried out in instant recognition of the name. "Yeah I've heard of her. She's a friend of mine."

"Good, then can you tell me where she is?!"

"Sorry," I said shaking my head. "Becky left for Europe as far as I know. She left Raccoon long before all this started. You can relax, she's safe."

The man thought for a second, taking in the new information that seemed to surprise him a little. Then he let out a sign and kicked the table leg, making me jump in my seat a little. "I came all the way into this fucked up town for nothing!" he cried in frustration.

"Hey, look on the bright side," I said, "at least you get to help me and Leon get outta here."

"Sure, who's Leon?"

"Some cop," I replied. "It's his first day today. What a welcome, huh?"

"You think I'm gonna join forces with a cop?" the man asked me as if I was crazy. "If anything, it's those bozos that are after me."

"I think in this kind of situation, it would be a little different. And if keeping away from the cops takes priority over staying alive in this hellhole, then you sure came to the wrong place."

The man looked at me and smirked. "You got a lip, kid," he said. "You wanna know who I am? I gotta have your word first."

"Scouts honor," I replied. 

"Billy Coen." I didn't make a sound. The name didn't ring a bell at all. "Yeah, didn't think you'd know or care. Point is, I'm friends with Rebecca. Back in her first mission, the girl saved my life."

"Hold on a sec," I said, motioning for him to pause. "Becky's first mission had something to do with the mansion incident three months ago in the Arklay Mountains. She said something about a criminal that …" I stopped. Suddenly it started making sense to me. This guy must've been that criminal, after all, he wanted to keep away from the cops. "You're …"

"That's right," he said, his fingers wrapping easily around my neck. "Now that you know, I trust I have your word not to squeal this to that rookie cop you're talking about."

"Hey, it's more important to me to stay alive at this point," I said through little gasps. "Sides, I gave my word, didn't I?" He let me go. 

"I don't trust you," he said. "All he's gotta do is rub a lollipop in your face and you'd probably leak the information in two seconds. You're coming with me." He grabbed me by the collar and pulled me up with a surprisingly strong arm. "You know how to use a gun?" he asked. 

I nodded my head. "I've seen it done in the movies a couple of times. It can't be that hard." He rolled his eyes at my pathetic attempt to justify my lack of experience. He pulled an extra one out from his pocket and laid it into my clammy hands. Whoever Billy Coen was, he sure knew what he was doing, coming into the city all stocked up with firearms. "Hold it in your hand like this." He demonstrated for me, both of his hands hugging the butt of the firearm tightly. "Keep your index finger on each hand onto the trigger. And when you want to shoot, just raise your arms at whatever you wanna fire at and pull the trigger."

I aimed the gun at the wall. "Now pull," he ordered. I did as I was told, pulling the trigger with as much strength as my trembling hands could muster. I've never held a gun in my hand before. The shot went off, the recoil knocking me backwards a step. I don't know whether it was the recoil, the resulting bang from the bullet, or the instant hole in the wall that surprised me. Perhaps it was a mix of all three. Billy nodded. 

"That's a good enough job. To make it out of this city alive, we're going to need to have heavier weapons."

"How would you know?" I asked. "This will be enough to take out all the zombies in our way. If we conserve ammo, I mean."

"There are crazier things out there than zombies," he said. "Trust me on this one." I didn't know whether to trust a criminal, or the fact that there were 'other' things out there. I hadn't seen anything else besides those rotting undead creatures since the nightmare had started. "I've been down this road with Becky before. Anyway, that was in the past. We've gotta get out of here now before that rookie cop comes back."

"But Leon told me to stay here," I protested. "What if he comes back and I'm gone?"

"Then he'll think you got eaten or something. Who cares? You'd just be another casualty anyway. He sure wouldn't care. If he's a cop, he knows deaths happen all the time in the line of duty."

"I still don't get why you're acting like you know all this stuff. If we all work together …"

"I was an ex-Marine, kid," Billy interrupted. "They teach you these kinds of things. Now let's get out of here before the rookie sees me."

"Hey, don't call me 'kid'" I demanded. "My name is Kenneth Feng, and if you're not gonna call me that, then at least call me Kenny."

Billy just shrugged and began sprinting for the door. "Come on, kid," he said pulling me behind him. This guy was just trying to piss me off. At that point, I knew I should've got with the by-the-book rookie cop.

                                                                *              *              *

Billy and I made it out of the police station without much fuss. There weren't any zombies in the way, oddly enough. I think it had something to do with me pulling the shutters down on the windows. If I made our escape that much easier for us, then I was glad I helped that much. The cold wind assaulted us just as soon as we walked out from the front doors of the station. I rubbed my hands against my upper arms for warmth, but Billy didn't seem affected despite only wearing a wife beater to protect him against the cold. 

"We can head down the main road," he said. "The city is planned out like a grid, so the streets all run parallel or perpendicular to one another. If we keep on the main roads, we'll be wide in the open so if anything tries to assault us, we'll see it coming before it's too late."

"Keep in mind the streets are also infected with the undead bodies of Raccoon City," I replied. "We don't have enough bullets to kill them all."

"That's why we take that cop car," Billy said, pointing to a parked police vehicle across the street. 

"Like you have the keys."

"I can hotwire the sucker. Come on, let's go." We headed across the street looking both ways not for cars, but for packs of those zombies that wanted to eat our brains fresh from our skulls. Billy smashed the passenger side window open with his gun, reached in through the broken tempered glass and unlocked the door. "Get in," he ordered. He didn't have to tell me twice. I jumped into the vehicle taking in the nice smell of the leather. This car had to be new from the smell. I opened up the gun compartment to look for any extra ammunition for handgun present Billy gave me. There was a magazine for the gun lying in there, but I didn't know how to load it at that point. 

"Hey, check this out," I said, holding up the magazine as Billy hopped into the driver's seat.

"Good, we'll be needing that." He grabbed it out of my hand and stuck it in his pocket. "I'm pretty low on ammo."

"I found it!" I cried. He was about to protest but gave an outward sigh and handed it back to me instead. 

"If it means that much to you … I came to this place to save a friend, not be some damn babysitter." He reached into the keyhole right beside the steering wheel and started pick through it with a knife he drew from the ankle of his boot. Wow, this guy seriously thought of bringing everything before entering the city. I wouldn't admit it to him, but I was quite impressed. I guess you can't expect anything less of an ex-Marine. 

"Shut up," I retorted. "We're partners, alright? As soon as we get out of this city, you can go ahead and ditch me. I can take care of myself."

"Assuming I don't feed you to the zombies first," he said, starting up the engine with an incredible roared to life, sending the car speeding off into the distance. 

Most of the car-ride towards the edge of town was rather silent. Both of us were filled with the hope of making it out of the city alive. There were a few zombies littering the streets with their stench producing bodies and Billy had rammed every single one, grinning as he heard their moans and their bones - or what was left of them - shattering against the hood of the car, their grotesque virus polluted blood splashing against the windshield. Billy turned on the wipers. I had to laugh. 

It was like we were playing some kind of game, just as soon as we hit the first zombie. "Super combo!" I cried out, laughing. "You just downed five in one ram. That gives you one hundred points, five for each one."

"Old lady crossing the street!" Billy cried pointing. Sure enough, it was an old lady, her gross, peeling wrinkled skin hanging in pieces off her face. Trust me, she wouldn't have looked much better if she weren't a zombie. She lurched towards the car with a gurgled groan, loud enough to be heard through the windows of the car. We had them closed, not wanting to risk any leaking of zombie guts into the car and infecting us. The car rammed into her hip, breaking it in multiple places. We could hear a series of audible cracks as her body collided with the hood with a wet thump of rotten guts and bones. "Woohoo, fifty points!" he shouted in victory, giving me a high five. 

The car suddenly lurched downward, as if something heavy had jumped on it while we were moving. "What the hell was that?" I asked. Billy only shrugged and continued driving. But it was the sound of bone against steel that caused us to jump out of our skins. A long, animal like claw pierced the roof in between our heads and cut the metal open, like a hot blade through butter. I looked through the crack to see some kind of monster looking at us hungrily through the opening. I looked like some kind of human with long clawed arms and short legs. But this thing didn't have skin, just a body consisting of bloodless pink muscle and a tongue longer than its body hanging loosely out of its head like some demonic snake. The brains on the creature were exposed. I could see it pumping with blood and instantly, something told me that was its weak point. I aimed my gun through the crack at the creature as it prepared to strike me with its clawed limb.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Billy shouted and pushed me out of the way, just in time for the claw to come down and make a deep cut in his forearm. "Ah!" he yelped in pain. Immediately, I could feel the spurt of warm blood coming from his arm landing on my face. He pulled his arm back and cradled it, all while trying to drive at the same time.

"Swerve the car!" I said. "Get that fucking thing off us!"

"I'm trying!" 

The creature continued to stab its claw through the metal roof of the car as if it was made of aluminum foil. Billy and I were ducking for our lives while the car was swerving madly in and out of both lanes. That's when I noticed it, a thick telephone poll about three feet in diameter rapidly approaching the car. 

"What out!" I cried pointing at the pole, but Billy had been too busy with the monster and controlling the car to take note of what I was saying. The police car rammed the pole painfully. I remember my body being thrown forward only to be caught by the seatbelt. Billy disappeared from view in a shower of spraying glass and the trunk of the telephone pole as it came between us neatly slicing the car in two. I heard the high pitched scream of the creature that attacked us cut off abruptly by a wet splat as the telephone pole fell on top of it and the roof of the car. Shortly thereafter, my consciousness fell into the enveloping darkness of night. And no matter how much I fought against it, the warm blood that flowed freely from my body slowly drained all the consciousness out of me. 


	4. Chapter 3: Attack at the Clocktower

                I remember coming to, awakening to the sound of rain. At first, I saw nothing but blackness but it gradually faded to light shortly after. I saw the rough outline of someone looking over me.

                "Hey, come on, amigo," he said with a slight Spanish accent, "time to get up."

                "Uhhhh …" I groaned. The light was becoming to bright for my sleepy eyes to handle. 

                "Come on, this ain't no time to be sleeping around, yah?" I felt a light tap on my cheek. Then the memories came flooding back. The zombie infested police station, Billy pointing his gun at my face, the wild car ride with that monster attacking us and then the crash … it all came flooding back, too much for my brain to handle all at once. I rose quickly screaming my lungs out, afraid of what I would be waking up to. The man who I saw looking over me came into focus now. He had an olive complexion and short dark brown hair that grew down the back of his head and short banks that tickled his hazel brown eyes. He jumped back, raising his hands, showing me that he meant no harm, although he was ironically dressed as a soldier of some kind. He had a dark green vest on with all sorts of ammunition hanging out of its multiple pockets. He also wore khaki colored pants over black combat boots. Such an aggressive exterior mixed with his almost easy-going tone sort of confused me more than scared me. 

                "W…where the hell am I?" I asked, looking around for any signs of fire, structural damage or blood. There was none. What I had previously thought was fire, was revealed to be nothing but candles lining the walls of the room. I was lying in a church pew, the touch of its cold polished wood surface sending chills up and down my spine.  

                "In the clock tower church," the guy replied. "I found you lying in the middle of the street. You were bleeding pretty bad but breathing at least. So I took you in and patched you up." He pointed to my head. I touched it, feeling the bandages wrapped tightly around it, stopping anymore blood from coming out. 

                "Thanks," I admitted, more than I was willing to. 

                "What happened to you?" he asked with genuine concern ringing in his voice. 

                "It was a car crash," I said. "There was somebody else with me. Billy. Did you see him?" 

                The man shook his head. "All I found was you, amigo." Billy Coen … that damn bastard left me to die in the middle of a zombie infested city. Well I couldn't expect anything more from a convict. I mentally kicked myself for trusting him in the first place. "We should go look for your friend."

                "Leave him out there," I said harshly without wasting another thought on him. "I hope he gets eaten."

                "Whoa, you guys get into a fight or something?"

                "Let's just say I trusted the wrong person. So … what are you doing here dressed like that? Maybe you guys are the backup the government sent to save all the civilians from the city, right?"

                "Not really," he said, shaking his head. "The name's Carlos Oliveira." He extended his hand. 

                "Kenneth Feng," I replied, "but please call me Kenny."

                "No, I'm not some S.W.A.T. member or anything. I'm a member of a group called the U.B.C.S. - the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service."

                "A military member sent in by Umbrella?"

                "Yup."

                "The pharmaceutical company actually has their own army?! What the hell is this world coming to? I guess Billy was right."

                "Hey listen, it's good to see you've come around and all, but I gotta get going," Carlos said turning around. 

                "What? Hold on, where are you headed?"

                "You see that girl over there?" He nodded in the direction behind me. I turned around to look at what he was referring to, seeing a young girl lying peacefully on the altar. She had a milky complexion and light brown hair that brushed against her shoulders. That's when I noticed the wound in her right shoulder. It looked infected or something, being all blue around the edges and a little of red mixed with black at the center. It looked like she was pierced with something. She had a good body and she wasn't ashamed of it at all, wearing this little light blue tube top and a black miniskirt with knee high boots. "Looks like a hooker," I said out loud, without even realizing it. 

                "That's Jill," Carlos explained. 

"Wait a sec … Jill?" No, there was no way it could've been Jill, little Miss. "Chase Your Dreams!" But as I got closer to her, I instantly recognized her face. It was none other than Jill Valentine, one of the S.T.A.R.S. members from the police station. 

"We're trying to get out of this place alive but she was attacked yesterday by some kind of monster," Carlos said.

                "Jill…"

                "You know her?" Carlos asked, looking at me strangely. 

                "She works with me at the precinct. But I thought Jill already left for Europe. What's going on? Why is she here? And did I just call her a hooker?!" I felt bad instantly. 

                "We'll figure that out later. Right now, we have to take care of her."

                "Yeah, that gaping wound in her shoulder looks pretty bad. What kind of a monster was it? Did it have a long tongue and these huge claws and no skin?" I raised my arms over my head and stuck my tongue out trying to mimic the monster's actions. 

                Carlos gave me a funny look. "No, it was a huge humanoid with no pupils or lips and gaping human teeth. It had a black trench coat and held a rocket launcher in one arm."

                "Fuck …" So there were worse things out there than that creature that attacked me and Billy. As I continued on this escape plan, I found less and less hope to make it out alive. It would've been nice to think that I could make it out all on my own, but realistically, what could I do? I needed to stick to somebody to get me outta this place, somebody with combat experience. "So about Jill," I said, motioning over to her, "how are you going to help her?"

                "She's been infected with the T-Virus - the same virus that turned all these people into zombies, you know?" Carlos said, hanging his head down in shame. "I couldn't save her."

                "Then what the hell are you doing staying around her?!" I cried. "She could turn into one of those zombies any minute!" I knew it was cold to say that about someone who had been a positive influence at the work place, but truth was truth. She was going to turn into a zombie.

                "There's still a chance I can help her," Carlos said. "There may be a vaccine somewhere in the hospital that's run by Umbrella. It's right across the street from the back exit. I don't know if we can find it, but it's definitely worth a look."

                "How long has she been like this?"

                "She was attacked yesterday evening," Carlos said. "I've tried getting into the hospital but I'm stuck here cause of my lack in ammunition."

                "I can help you get in," I offered. "I've got a magazine in my pocket."

                "No!" Carlos said, reacting to the offer more so than responding. "You're too young to be put in a situation like this!"

                "But I came this far all by myself -"

                "It's against my morals to endanger a child. I won't have it, and that's final!"

                                                                                *              *              *

                "I don't know how you managed to talk me into letting you come along," Carlos said, shaking his head as he pushed a giant brass bell out of the way so that the old fashioned wooden door could open.

                "Hey, if we're gonna make it out of this place alive, then we're gonna have to work together," I reminded him. "I'll go check out the basement of the hospital where they store the vaccines."

                Carlos shook his head. "They wouldn't have the vaccine made and ready to be injected," he explained. "If they did, it would be subject to theft and something like that is worth _a lot. _But don't worry, amigo, I've got the recipe."

                "What?! How would you know how to make the vaccine?" Carlos reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of crumpled papers. "We've found various files along the way on our adventure. You don't wanna know the details, man; it's a long story. You got a gun on you?"

                I tapped the pocket of my pants and nodded my head. "Right here."

                "You know how to shoot?"

                "If I didn't,I wouldn't have made it this far, right?" I know it was a flat out lie, I hadn't had the opportunity to use the gun yet, but hey, I wasn't gonna make myself look pathetic in front of an army guy. He looked suspiciously at me for a moment and then smiled and said, "Yah … I mean … right! Come on then, let's go." Okay, so I hoped I was a better shooter than I was a liar.

                We stepped out into the open air, hearing the howling of the wind. It was kind of creepy, as if it was singing our death theme or something. There was a slight drizzle coming from above, as if the gods were trying to wash away the evil that resided in the city but to no avail. Water splashed against our shoulders and made our hair go limp and hang in our eyes. We headed out of the clock tower building and turned left. It appeared that there was a road that led straight to the hospital. There were a few zombies blocking our path, though. That was when my heart just froze. I hadn't been face to face with one of the undead before. Thinking back to when I first attempted to escape the city, there was always something separating me and the creatures, whether it had been the hood of the car, or the glass of the windows. It made me nervous to see them standing right there, coming after me whenever they wanted. And I guess they wanted me now because I saw about three or four of them heading our way, their gross decaying feet scraping across the cold wet pavement. 

                Carlos opened fire on them as if it were nothing, treating them like they were nothing but a bunch of walking, decaying corpses. I guess that's what they were. It was just hard to imagine that behind every moaning, groaning, disgusting zombie, there was once a human with a family, friends, a human that once had a life as equally complex, if not more, than my own. 

                "The hell are you standing around for?!" Carlos screamed at me over the deafening hail of bullets shooting from his hand gun. "Start shooting!"

                "I …" I didn't want to, but if I didn't, they'd be all over me in a second. Remembering what Leon told me, I held the gun steady with two trembling hands, squeezed my right eye shut, and pointed the barrel at the chest of the closest zombie, squeezing it hard and tight towards myself. The resulting explosion of the shooting bullet forced me backwards a little but I was able to regain my balance without much effort. 

                My first instinct was to pause and absorb what I had just done - killing one of those things - but there wasn't any time. The more we took down, it seemed, three would take their place. 

                "They can smell us," Carlos said. "The wind is carrying our scent. We're a walking feast for those things." The horde of zombies gained momentum. Soon, we found ourselves running out of bullets. I couldn't believe that I'd used up that entire magazine that I found in the cop car. "We gotta get back inside!" Carlos screamed. "Come on!"

                I began running right behind him. The zombies were slow - they would've never caught up to us, but another second being outside with them didn't appeal to me one bit. I hung a right, turning into the corridor that led to the back door of the clock tower, just a few feet behind Carlos. Apparently, a few feet wasn't enough because just as I made the turn, I felt a pair of cold, wet hands grip my shoulders tightly, giving me a strong pull, yanking me off my feet. My back hit the cement hard from the momentum I gained from running and falling. The moans of the zombies got closer but there was already on top of me. I closed my eyes and prayed that it would be quick. 


	5. Chapter 4: Enter the Nemesis

                "Ahh! Please don't kill me … oh god …" I wailed, but my desperate cries were interrupted by a snappy response. 

                "Shut up, already!" I opened by eyes, realizing I had been covering them with my hands the whole time. Now I was beginning to wish it actually HAD been a zombie that was attacking me. I didn't want any normal person seeing me in such a pathetic state begging for my life. But I guess it was too late at that point. 

                "Billy!" I cried with surprise, not sure whether to feel more excited to see him or feel embarrassed about my reaction. Remembering what he did to me earlier, leaving me to die alone in the middle of the infested streets of the city, I turned away from him and dusted myself off, giving him the most attitude I could muster. "What are you doing here?"

                "Looking for you, Kenny," he replied, as if it should've been obvious to me. 

                "Oh, after leaving me for zombie food, I see," I said. I heard him slap his forehead. 

                "It's not what it looked like," he said, as if he was lying. "There was a woman. She didn't look like a zombie so I decided to go after her and see if she could help. But by the time we got back to the car, you were gone."

                "Then what are you doing here now?" I asked. 

                "We needed to get to the hospital to find something to treat my wounds." I looked at him, noticing for the first time that his right should had a deep looking cut, spilling blood down the rest of the way down his arm. 

                "Shit," I said regretfully. "I'm sorry. I guess I … didn't notice."

                "Forget it, kid," he replied, "but we need to get to the hospital."

                "Don't even try it," I advised, "you see that mob of zombies over there?" I pointed in the direction that me and Carlos had just come from. 

                "They're getting closer."

                "Who cares?" I said, throwing my arms up in the air. "Those things are slow as hell. Just take my sock and tie it around your arm so we can soak up some of the blood." I began taking my shoe off. 

                "Haha, yeah right," Billy laughed, "and infect my wound with your slimy socks? I don't think so, buddy."

                "Hey, I'm offering you a solution," I said, putting my shoe back on. "If you don't wanna, then that's not my problem! Our main goal is to get out of this hellhole alive. Get treatment when we return to the real world."

                Billy shrugged. "I'd rather do that than get infected with your …"

                "Shut up," I said, "let's get going. And where's this woman you were talking about?"

                "Oh, Ada? She should be waiting around the Raccoon Park gates." He pointed towards the stairs that were just a few feet away, sporting a large stone archway with the words "Raccoon City Public Park" carved into the arc. "We can climb over the fence on the south end that'll take us back onto the main street. From there, we can walk outta here. We should have enough ammunition to last us."

                "Not anymore," I said pulling out my pockets. "I finished off that clip I found in the cop car on the zombies."

                "Whatever, we can talk about this later. Let's just get outta here before that horde of zombies gets any closer."

                He began tugging me along, but I had to resist, even if it was just a moment. "Hold on, we can't go just yet."

                "Why not?"

                "There are survivors in that building. There's this guy named Carlos and a co-worker from the police precinct and …"

                "I told you, I'm not getting involved with any cops," Billy replied sternly.

                "How can you say that given the situation we're in? I think they'd have more important things to worry about than arresting you." I began to protest again, but Billy wouldn't listen, grabbing me by my shirt collar and tugging me along behind him. 

                                                                *              *              *

                The Raccoon City Park gates opened with a loud, ear piercing squeak of resentment. Standing at the fountain with her back turned to us was a slim woman in a red cocktail dress with black pants underneath. I had to laugh. It was hard to tell what she looked like, but from the way she dressed, I KNEW she was Asian. Don't get me wrong, I'm not racist or anything. I'm Asian myself, and I can recognize another one of my kind even from that distance. Besides, who else would wear a pair of pants underneath a dress? It was a direct reflection of the fashion in Hong Kong!

                The woman turned around to face us and instantly, I knew I was right. "What took you so long?" she asked Billy. 

                "Sorry," Billy replied, "the kid needed a little convincing." He pushed me forward in between the two of them. "Our goal is to get out of the city and we're gonna need all the help we can get. I just refuse to get entangled with the cops."

                The woman cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why is this, exactly?"

                "Don't worry, he won't tell me either," I answered for Billy. "Nice to meet ya, I'm Kenneth." I extended a hand at her. She hesitantly took my hand in hers and we shared a brief handshake. 

                "Ada Wong," she replied. "It's hard to believe the both of you haven't gotten infected with the virus yet."

                "I had little contact with the zombies when the virus was still contagious," I explained. "The police officers liked to keep me in the receptionist office for my work experience. Nobody infected really got in there so …"

                Ada nodded. "I see."

                "And what about you? How were you able to escape infection?"

                "I just came into town," Ada said. "I'm looking for my boyfriend, John. He's in the city somewhere, I know it."

                "How chivalrous," Billy said sarcastically. "Now what do you guys say we quit this useless chatting and get the hell outta this dump?"

                "I'm with him," I answered quickly. 

                We made our way around to the back of the park that was fenced off from the rest of the city. Beyond the chain linked fence, I could see the main street of Raccoon City in the downtown region. It looked empty enough. The street lights were on, casting powerful but concentrated beams of light on the otherwise shadow covered street. With Billy's help, Ada and I were able to get over the fence, using him as a boost. Somehow, the guy managed to scale the fence by himself, jumping down the last few feet to meet us on the other side. Ada and I stared at him in amazement. Noticing our disbelief, Billy just shrugged the effort off like it was nothing. 

                "It's the whole ex-Marine thing, you know," he said. He led the way and the three of us started heading down the road. As soon as our feet left the grass and stepped onto the pavement, the ground began to rumble violent. We struggled to maintain our footing but it was to no avail. Ada fell first and I followed shortly thereafter. Billy was still struggling to keep on his feet by the time the ground split into two farther down the road. 

                I thought it was an earthquake at first at the rate the ground was shaking - like anything worse could happen in the city. But it was no earthquake. I realized this after seeing the giant snakelike creature emerge from the crack of the road. I got a closer look at it and realized it wasn't a snake, but an enormous worm! As it raised its slimy body out from the ground, the street lights illuminated it's faceless head. It three huge protrusions from its head that slowly transformed from slimy white skin, cartilage, and bone at the end. And these pincers were vicious looking, placed around it's head and snapped back and forth with the preciseness of well sharpened knives. 

                And of the three of us, not surprisingly with my luck sofar, the damn thing came after me. It moved so quickly, it was just a blur. My eyes couldn't even catch it, which was weird especially for something that huge. But something in my head told me to jump and jump I did. I landed painfully on both elbows, hitting the viral ridden pavement. I only realized the pain afterwards because at the time, my body was pumped with adrenaline from a big hybrid of a worm maggot trying to eat me. 

                Somewhere in the background, I heard gunshots. As I was rolling on the ground, trying to soften the impact from my feeble attempt and a dive out of the way of the worm, I glanced to my right, spotting a gaping hole in the ground. The monster was powerful enough to punch a hole about three feet into the ground through the concrete. "Hurry up and shoot the fucking thing!" I screamed at Billy and Ada. 

                Ada seemed to have snapped out of some kind of daze and expertly aimed her firearm at the monster. How could she have been so calm at a time like this? Something about her rubbed me the wrong way, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. She seemed to be preoccupied with something going on in her little head all the time. And she hardly spoke either. The little words that her lips produced were always short and straight to the point. I wasn't too fond of this woman. But at this point in time, she was my best friend, expertly aiming and firing her handgun with well timed shots at the giant worm. Billy stood firing just as rapidly as Ada was, but the woman's skills were sharp. Billy, although being an ex-military soldier, showed some experience as well, but his abilities struck me as somewhat rusty. He looked nervous almost, as if he had been out of practice for some time. 

                Just then the worm turned its attention from me over to Billy. Perhaps it had sensed his nervousness, labeling him as easy prey. Ada continued firing at the monster, but it was useless. It pursued Billy, approaching him with incredible speed. I don't know what came over me, but I felt like I had to do something. I jumped at Billy, tensing my entire body, getting ready for the impact of our colliding forms. I wanted him out of the way. I wouldn't say that I'd sacrifice my life for him, but I can safely say I wasn't even thinking about my own safety. 

                Something ripped at my thighs. A searing pain slashed through the skin of my quadriceps, cutting through my shirt and skin like a knife through paper. I felt a warm liquid spread from my wound down my leg. And for the second time in a minute, I landed on my elbows. Now the pain was really beginning to settle in. 

                "What the hell are you doing, you stupid kid?!" Billy screamed. It wasn't the gratitude I was expecting, but I saw the genuine look of concern in his eyes. There were splatters of blood on his face and hands. It must've been my blood. 

                "Are you alright?" Ada asked running over. 

                "I'm fine," Billy said, "but you better take a look at Kenny."

                "Jesus," Ada said, clasping her chest. "Is that what the monster did?"

                "No, I decided slice my leg open just for the heck of it," I replied. "Where's the monster now? I didn't even see it go."

                "It went back underground after eating too many bullets," Ada said coolly. "I don't think its dead, though."

                "Well if it does, we're ready for it," Billy said, reloading another clip into his magazine with a resounding click. "How are you doing for ammo, Kenny?"

                "I don't have any," I said shrugging. "That's why I wasn't exactly firing back at monster … But now after what it's done to me, I don't think I'd mind pumping a few rounds into its ugly head."

                "Hey, any of you guys getting hungry?" Billy asked suddenly out of the blue. 

                Ada and I shook our heads. "No …" she replied. "Why do you ask?"

                "Well somebody has to be. I keep hearing some kind of growling noise coming from one of you. Not that I blame you. I mean it's been awhile since I've had anything decent to eat either and …"

                "Billy," I said fearfully pointing behind him. "I don't think that's our stomachs you're hearing." Out from the buring wreckage of what looked like a cable car walked this demon straight from hell. It was humanoid, only much taller and bulkier. It wore a huge trench coat that covered most if its body, revealing only the ugly head. Trust me, ugly is an understatement. This thing had no hair, no pupils in its eyes, no nose, and no lips. It looked like the fire had melted off its face. The one feature that stuck out the most was the double row of large teeth. Its right had looked to be a lot larger than the left. But as the thing came closer, I could see that it was an attachment … in fact, it looked like a … ROCKET LAUNCHER!!

                Then it mumbled something. "Ssstarsss…"

                "N … Nemesis …" Ada said softly, her face frozen in fear.

                "What?" I asked turning around to face her. "What the hell is that?!"

                Her mouth moved like she was trying to say something. "R … run damn it, you guys, RUN!!!" She finally managed to scream it out. At the same time, the three of us heard the audible click. The Nemesis had raised its arm, the one bearing the rocket launcher and aimed it at us. The next thing I noticed was the plume of smoke that emerged from the rear of the rocket, and that's when I noticed that it was heading straight for us. 


	6. Chapter 5: Underground Congregation

                For the second time in two days, I woke up from unconsciousness. To be frank, I was getting sick of being knocked around like somebody's rag doll. First it was that insane car ride through the city with that skinless monster tearing the car up to get us like a cat on a can of sardines. And now …

                Where was I? Somewhere in the distance, I finally took notice of the sound of dripping water. My head continued to throb, perhaps from the sound that had been assaulting my senses for probably quite awhile. And only now I take notice of it? My legs were cold, sending these horrible chills up and down my spine. My body shook for a second, uncontrollably. It was cold here, dark, damp and chilly. The air smelled like a bad rusty bike locked in a shed for decades. I rested my palm on the floor, feeling the dirt. Then I knocked on it, feeling cold metal come into contact with my dry, cracking knuckles. The resounding knock echoed throughout the room – and it sounded like a big room at that. 

                I rubbed my head painfully trying to recall the events … specifically, what led to me to this place. Ah yes, it was the … what did Ada call it? The Nemesis? Holy shit, Ada! And Billy! Where were they? I twisted my body to prop myself off the ground and my hand accidentally rubbed up against my thigh. Nothing big I know, but the searing pain that erupted thereafter made me wince. It felt like my leg was on fire. Then I remembered the fight with the giant worm, that monster that tried to cut me to into bite sized pieces with the talons that sprouted from it multi-jawed mouth. It only managed to cut my leg, but in this darkness, I couldn't tell how deep the wound was and there was no way in hell I was going to probe it to find out. What if it infected me with its virus? The realization hit me hard. Was I going to turn into one of those mindless, decaying zombies? Thoughts of my family, my friends and my future instantly flashed before my mind's eye and then disappeared as instantly as they came into the darkness. Well, if I was infected, there was nothing I could do to stop it. So I might as well struggle to stay alive. 

                The lights snapped on suddenly, instantly bathing the room it an intense fluorescent glow. I caught a glimpse of television monitors that covered the entire wall behind me. Every one of the screens displayed nothing but static. As the room curved towards the left, I saw a desk with a typewriter and a large wooden trunk. I had to shield by eyes from the assault of light, but was caught off guard when I heard a voice.

                "Who's there?" a familiar voice called. 

                I looked into the direction of the voice, and I knew it was familiar for some reason. Standing there clad in a blue police uniform, his once perfectly combed brown hair now a disheveled, greasy mess, was Leon Kennedy, the rookie cop. Spatters of dried blood decorated his new, pressed uniform. And the biggest change was the large bandage that wrapped around his upper abdomen and chest. I didn't notice the difference then, I was so glad to see him. 

                "Leon!" I cried, jumping to my feet. Again, the pain ate into my leg, causing me to stagger for a moment. 

                "Holy shit, you're alive!" he replied, running over to my aid. "I thought you got were attacked by zombies or something."

                "Sorry, I should've stayed in the S.T.A.R.S. office like you told me to but I ran into …" I paused. Billy mentioned several times about his reluctance to entangle himself in the affairs of cops. Now would be a good time to adhere to his wishes, especially since he saved my life on numerous occasions tonight already. 

                "Ran into what?" Leon asked looking puzzled. "Did you find any other survivors?"

                "No," I said. "I … um … I got bored and decided to walk around for a little. Then I saw a couple of … uh … those monsters and freaked out, so I ran."

                Leon was looking at me suspiciously as I stumbled over my own words. Now I've done it. I've lied to a cop and he's going to charge me for bearing false witness against a figure of authority. We learned about that in class … how it was punishable by fines that, me, a starving student, couldn't afford to pay. Was jail time involved? I couldn't remember. Now I was wishing I had paid more attention in class. 

                "So you ran all the way over … here?"

                I nodded rapidly. "Yeah, all the way over here. It's big, it's metal, so it should keep all the monsters away until help arrives."

                Leon took a step back and stood up straight, pushing his chest out as he frowned at me. "First of all, no help is ever going to come. The entire city itself is in quarantine. Do you think they'll come to our rescue when there's potential for such a contagious virus to spread? Scientists themselves know nothing of it, so the government isn't taking any risks."

                "Oh …. Well I …"

                "Secondly," he said, cutting me off, "do you have any idea where this is?" I shook my head. "We're in one of Umbrella's underground labs. I had to take a platform elevator to get here. Did YOU take the elevator to?"

                "Um … not exactly …"

                "If you're going to lie to me, at least do a good job of it," he said sternly. Oh no, he was starting to sound like one of my teachers. Leon heaved a sigh and tenderized his tone. "Look, I'm trying to help you out of this mess. It is my job as a police officer to protect the innocent. But I'm not going to be able to do my job if you're gonna run away from me. Now I want your co-operation. What are you doing down here?"

                "Hold on," I said, putting up my hand. "You're not going to charge me for lying …?"

                "There are a few more serious things we need to worry about here," he replied. "Now answer my question.

                "I don't know," I said. "Honestly, I don't know how I got here. In fact I just woke up right before you got here, inside this huge metallic room."

                "You were sleeping?"

                "No …" I answered sheepishly. "I was attacked."

                "Ah ha! The truth comes out."

                "Are you going to let me finish?" I snapped.

                "Alright, I'm sorry. Continue, please."

                "I left the precinct through the front doors and made my way over to this clock tower." I was careful to try and refrain from mentioning Billy. "There were people there."

                "There are more survivors?"

                "Yeah, and we should go and get them," I suggested.

                "No," Leon shook his head. "The clock tower is far from here and we're in a pretty desperate situation ourselves."

                "We?"

                "Oh, that would be me, Claire, Sherry and Ada."

                "Ada?!" I cried in instant recognition. "You know that woman?"

                "You mean, YOU know her?" he asked me, equally surprised.

                "Yeah," I said. "She was the woman that helped me and Bill … I mean she helped get away from the chapel. Not that I wanted to leave the other survivors but there was no time. We were in the middle of a zombie attack. And then there was the giant worm, and the Nemesis …"

                "Jesus, what the hell kind of monsters are out there?" Leon said in amazement. "This hellhole just doesn't let up does it? And who's Bill?"

                "Nobody, I just bit my tongue." Leon just glared at me. 

                "If whatever you're hiding is serious enough, you know I'm not gonna hesitate in charging you, right?" 

                "Alright," I sighed, giving in. "His name is Billy Coen. He's a convict on the run and the only reason he came into this city was to rescue Becky. But she's not here, she's in Europe. So the two of us teamed up and tried to escape the city."

                "Where is he now?"

                "I don't know. I'm trying to find out where I am, even. After the Nemesis attacked us, I just blacked out, probably knocked unconscious from the blast. The thing had a freakin' rocket launcher on its arm."

                "Heh, sounds like something a kid would make up," Leon scoffed. Then he looked at me strangely. "Nevermind."

                "Hey, you've seen the bullshit out there," I said in defense. "You know that in this place any fucking thing is possible."

                "I guess. But you know … this is a survival mission we're on. Anything goes here, so do you really think I'm going to arrest you people? Even this … Billy you speak of. I'm sorry, but I'm going to be too busy uncovering Umbrella's plot to the government, than be worried about some man who's wanted elsewhere …"

                "Umbrella's plot?" I asked. "The pharmaceutical company has a plot?! Ha! You make them sound evil or something."

                "You're not going to believe this, but I think it's for your own benefit that you know. Umbrella is responsible for spreading this virus."

                "What was it? An experimental antibiotic that kills people?" I joked. 

                "This is serious," Leon said. "I'm searching this place for evidence … and a way to escape. There's a train platform if you go through these doors in the room next to this one. But the doors won't open without a MO disk, and I'm trying to find that disk. I'm gonna go look for it now and I want you to STAY HERE."

                "Alright," I replied, "scout's honor."

                "Good." He began to walk away, his feet clanking on the metal floor. The echoes they produced made me feel like I was going to be alone again. The only company I had in this world of monsters was leaving me. There was a sinking feeling in my gut, but I pushed it down, putting my full trust in Leon. He and his gang of survivors were gonna come back for me, and we would get out of here alive. The door closed with an electronic hum and I was alone once again in the cold metal room. _Click!_

"You told him about me."

                "Holy shit, Billy!" I jumped. "It's good to see you're …" It was Billy alright, coming inside the room from the opposite end near the typewriter just as Leon was heading out. Only this time, he wasn't so friendly, holding a handgun aimed at my forehead. "Listen, I had no choice. He was a police officer! I can't lie to them! I'm even lucky he's letting me off and …"

                "The point it, he knows about me now," Billy said walking closer with his gun. I instinctively put my hands up. He pressed the barrel of the handgun, to my forehead and leaned in closer to face me. "Bang."

                I jumped, realizing then that my eyes were closed tightly. I opened them, to see him with a childish mischievous grin spread across his face. "You're such a wuss."

                "What? I don't understand."

                "I heard it myself, he's not going to arrest anyone. Besides, I was beginning to realize that if want to make it out of here alive, we need to stick together. Ada told me about Leon. I'm beginning to think this cop is our only hope out of here." 

                "Where is Ada?"

                "Right here," she said, walking up from behind Billy. 

                "What happened to us? How did we get here?"

                "We took the sewers to get here," Billy said. "We narrowly escaped the Nemesis. And the only person to be injured was you. Knocked out cold from the blast. So we hauled you over here."

                "But why here?"

                "I need to be here. I'm looking for my boyfriend," Ada replied. 

                "Leon, he's …"

                "It's not Leon and he's here, I know," Ada nodded. 

                "Then why aren't you with him?"

                "I have some things to take care of," she replied quickly. "Take this." Ada held out her hand and presented a disk to me. "I want you and Billy to use this disk and get out of here."

                "What about you? And Leon?" 

                "I'll get us out of here, don't worry. There's more than one MO disk, you know."

                Billy took the disc out of her hand and pocketed it. "Come on, squirt, we're getting out of here."

                "But Jill and Carlos are at the clock tower."

                "Listen, if this Jill is the same S.T.A.R.S. member you speak of, then don't you think she's got a better chance of surviving than we do? Come on, this is our best shot we've got at getting out of here alive!" He grabbed me by the collar – typical Billy style – and dragged me out of the room, the same way Leon exited. 

                I looked back at Ada who glared back at us with an evil smile on her face, holding her pistol close to her chest, rubbing the barrel with her well manicured fingers. 


	7. Interlude: The Self Destruct Sequence

**Lost Survivor:** Thank you for your encouragement! You're not good for my ego, but I don't mind. I've thought about professional writing before, but I've pretty much concluded it's not something I want to do for the rest of my life. And I have written my own novel, actually – not to brag or anything because it's really no best seller. It can me found on my webpage. The link is in my profile. Thanks again. I hope you will continue to enjoy this story.   
  
**E-Z B:** Why the long wait? I lost inspiration for this story awhile back, and I'm trying to pick it up again by playing Resident Evil games and reading other people's fanfiction. I don't like starting a story and not finishing it so I'm forcing myself … and trying to inspire myself at the same time so I can get through this. Also, reviews are useful ;) I'm simultaneously working on another story, also on ff.net so that's why I don't update this one as often as I should.   
  
**Res1kna4:** As above, I will definitely finish this story. I hope you will continue reading and enjoying it.   
  
**Flamestrike:** See E-Z B.   
  
________________________________________________________________________________________   
  
The ride up the platform elevator was quiet. The electronic hum of the machinery was the only sound audible, save for mine and Billy's calm steady breathing. The MO disk that Ada gave us worked, as she had told us. The disk opened up large metal doors about half a foot thick. It led us to a hallway glowing with red lights, something you'd see in an emergency situation on T.V. At the end of the hall was another pair of doors, this one not as high security as the first, leading to a room full of giant capsules, big enough to fit two grown men inside. They were empty, save for a mysterious clear fluid filled about halfway. I think it was water.   
  
The room had an elevator behind to sliding doors. And it took forever to come pick us up. My stomach was somersaulting waiting for the thing to arrive. I heard something big and heavy walking above our heads, probably between floors, its footsteps sending a little shower of debris onto us. Billy, on the other hand, stayed strangely cool and collected, clutching his handgun like it was his only possession.   
  
So now we were in the elevator. We hadn't said a thing to each other after escaping. I didn't feel good leaving the others back there and I wanted to voice my concerns, but I couldn't quite put them into words. I mean, I was glad to be leaving the joint, but leaving Leon and the others back there didn't sit tight with me. Why would Ada encourage us to go first? I don't trust that woman, I really don't. There's something sinister about her, about the way she walks, acts and talks in this kind of a chaotic situation. She seems too out of place … like she knows what she's doing, like the source of order that does not belong with everything we've experienced so far. And that freaky look with rubbing her gun, grinning like a devil as Billy and I were leaving. Something was really off about that woman.   
  
Finally, after the long, silent ride up to the train platform, the elevator reached its destination. We went from a metallic environment to a stone one. My feet made hardly any sound walking on cold concrete. There was a large train in front of us. Not the high class, passenger kind of train. It was more like a refugee freight train, orange on the outside with black paint along the bottom and a black roof. The escape vehicle looked like something ripped out of Halloween. To the right, the platform expanded to maintenance area separated from us by a gate. To the right, the platform led to a small computer panel. I walked up and inspected the device. It looked like it opened up the gates of the platform that closed it off from a connecting tunnel. A breeze engulfed by body, chilling me once again.   
  
"It smells like fresh air," I said, rubbing my hands together. "You think this tunnel leads outside?" I motioned to the direction of the circular opening in the cracked cement walls.   
  
"I'm betting on it," Billy replied. "Come on, let's get this thing moving."   
  
"I don't think that's such a good idea," I countered. "Ada and Leon will have to use this thing to escape. I say we walk the tunnel."   
  


"There's no telling how long it is." 

"I don't care. When they make it out of there, at least they'll have something to ride."   
  


"And what about us? What if we're still walking and they smash us with that train?" Billy was clearly against my idea of walking the tunnel.   
  


I inspected the width of the tunnel, mentally estimating the width between the track and the wall. There was about five feet of space. It looked dangerous - there was no doubt about that. But if we were careful, we'd live. And that's assuming IF the train hit us.   
  


"Come on," I said, jumping down onto the track. "We don't have much time." Billy frowned at me from up on the platform.   
  


"I can't believe I'm doing this," he mumbled under his breath. "If anything happens to us, I'll be seeing you in hell." Then he jumped down and joined me on the track. The moment he touched down, the both of us broke into a jog, hoping to reach the end quickly. It was dark in the tunnel, turning quickly to pitch black as we got farther in. We had to slow down in case of debris that we could trip over lay in our path. Our only source of light was what I saw at the end of the tunnel, about the size of a pinhead. But now it was about the size of a dime. We were slowly reaching the end.   
  


"Follow the breeze," Billy ordered. "That'll tell us which way to go."   
  


"What the hell is going on?" I asked, feeling a rumble beneath my feet. "Earthquake?"   
  


"It better not be," Billy said, "after all the shit we just went through we don't need an earthquake."   
  


But our answer came quickly. The breeze stopped blowing directly in my face, but I could still hear it howling through the tunnel. Something was blocking it, something big. I could make out a humanoid figure in a trench coat and instantly my guard went up. The last guy in a trench coat was a fucking monster that tried to blow all of our heads off. This one didn't look as threatening but it was hard to tell in the darkness.   
  


Unexpectedly, I felt a rush of air and I instinctively dropped to the ground and rolled off to the side, feeling airborne bits of stone scrape my cheek. Not a second after I dodged, I could make the outline of a massive fist embedded into the wall where my head used to be. "FUCK!!" I screamed, scrambling to my feet. "Shoot it!"   
  


I didn't even have to tell Billy, he knew what to do. Even as I was screaming, the gunshots were going off, pumping lead into the oversized man's body. My hand brushed up against something cold and hard, like steel. I felt for it desperately, happy to find that it was scrap metal, perhaps leftover from the construction of the rail. Making sure to keep my head below Billy's hail of bullets, I picked it up like a baseball bat and guessed where the giant monster stood. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and swung at the creature's legs. It felt like I was hitting a steel pole with a steel bat. The vibrations ran through my body so violently that it hurt. The monster was going to counter the attack, I knew it. So rolled backwards quickly, wincing as the gravel on the ground dug its way into my back. My instincts were right. The monster stomped down hard, sending a spray of rocks in every direction, rocks that were now not only embedded into my back, but also pelted me in the face. But it was better than being stomped to death I suppose.   
  


"This thing won't die!" Billy shouted over the gunshots. He was right. Come to think of it, the gunshots were still ringing. He never stopped shooting and the monster ate the bullets like it wasn't feeling anything! And then, the bangs were replaced by clicks. My heart simultaneously sank. "Please say you've got more bullets," I prayed quietly.   
  


"I'm out," he announced. "Run for it!" I felt Billy zip past me like a horse and I took off not far behind. I could feel the breeze again chilling my body. I never thought I'd be so happy to feel cold. We'd left the monster behind, but there was no telling how fast it could run if it really wanted us dead. The searing pain in my leg hindered my speed as I struggled to keep up.   
  


"Hold on!" I cried. "My leg …" But Billy paid no heed to my pleas. I glanced behind me to see how close the monster was to catching up. To my surprise, I saw nothing but black, heard nothing but the howling of the wind. The thing wasn't coming after us. I kept jogging for a little bit until I felt it was safe to slow down, until I was sure we left that thing far behind. "It's not coming after us, Billy," I said. By then, he was already a few yards ahead of me. He slowed down and turned to look.   
  


"No shit?" We both looked at each other and laughed nervously.   
  


"Let's not jinx ourselves," I suggested, picking up pace again. The light at the tunnel was now the size of a dinner plate. Freedom was only a few steps away.   
  


But the wrath of the doomed city refused to  let us go, surprising us yet again within a few seconds of our escape. A computerized feminine voice spoke robotically through speakers in the tunnel, rendered invisible by the lack of light. "The self destruct system has been activated. Repeat. The self destruct system has been activated. This system cannot be aborted. Please proceed to the emergency car at the bottom platform."   
  


Billy and I exchanged horrified looks. "The self destruct system?"   
  
  



	8. Chapter 6: Heated Debate

                    I half ran, half limped towards the exit at the end of the tunnel, my lungs wheezing, my body burning, trying to gulp in some of that luscious oxygen to help my failing body move faster. The cold, hard feminine voice that rang throughout the tunnel did nothing to calm my terror.

                    "The self destruct sequence has been activated," she said, more so out of boredom than anything. Whoever's voice that was, she sure as hell didn't think such a situation would ever occur during the time of recording. But lately it seemed Umbrella had a habit of blowing up their labs. "Repeat, the self destruct sequence has been activated. This sequence may not be aborted. All employees proceed to the emergency car at the bottom platform."

                    Billy was a few yards ahead of me by now, not even taking the time to glance back. Not that I blamed him. If I were a criminal, I'd probably be more concerned for my own safety than that of some cripple. The wound I received from that giant worm a few nights ago was beginning to burn. I had to get myself to a hospital before the infection spread too far. But right now, I had to escape the radius of the impending explosion before I could get myself checked into a hospital - and that was what kept me going on.

                    After what seemed like an eternity of darkness, its clutches rendering my body more useless by the second, I stumbled out of the subway tunnel and continued on my pathetic limp, trying to get as far away as possible.

                    "Faster," Billy ordered, turning back to face me. "There's no telling how huge the explosion will be, or how long more we have left before that happens."  

                    "Are you telling me we could be dead anytime within the next few minutes?!" I wheezed, clutching painfully at my chest. It was a stupid question - but I like to think of it as being rhetorical. So I continued to run. There was a patch of vegetation towards our left, consisting of lush green trees lined around the edges with thick bushes. Would they offer protection from the blast? Would they serve as obstacles to dodge when it finally occurred? There was no way of telling and I sure as hell wasn't a physics expert, so I decided to take my chances. Apparently, Billy silently agreed as he headed for the trees as well. 

                    "We'll be safer in there!" he said, pointing in the direction of the forest. I guess he agreed with me. I smiled as I stepped into the bushes, despite the prickly branches scratching against by wounded and bruised body. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, I was out of Raccoon City. I was safe. I didn't care of the possibility of creatures leaking out of the city and into the surrounding forest. It was just good to be out of that damn hellhole. 

                    Not only that, but the sun was close to the eastern horizon, warming up the cold earth from a freezing night. It's warming rays produced goose bumps on my body, shining like heavenly beams between the thin trunks of the trees. By now, Billy and I had slowed to a walking pace, too tired to continue running. After a few minutes, he collapsed to the ground, finding a cozy spot beside a tree trunk. I did the same, instead coming into contact with a rock - not as comfortable. 

                    "I can't go on," he admitted, finally defeated from the physical and mental stress endured for the past few days. "It was a mistake going into that place."

                    "Well I'm thankful you did," I said, feeling a little uncomfortable showing him my gratitude. But I really was thankful. I don't know how I would've gotten out of Raccoon alive if it weren't for him. Then again, I was thankful to the others too, like Leon, Ada and Carlos. Despite my brief encounters with these civilians, they each contributed to my escape in some way. And then there was Jill, whom I liked to call Ms. Chase-Your-Dreams! Out of everyone involved in the Raccoon disaster, Jill was the one I knew best. She worked with me in the police precinct, always mothering me around … I couldn't help but feel concerned for them as I sat now, beside a huge rock with the sun's rays bathing my body. They were still trapped in the city. "Do you think the others will make it out?" I asked. 

                    "Who knows?" Billy shrugged. "It's out of our hands at this point."

                    "Maybe we should go back," I suggested. 

                    "And get blown up? I didn't go through two nights of hell to escape, just so I can go back and be killed in some explosion. But if you want to, be my guest."

                    I stood up, unable to handle Billy's cold outlook anymore. "If we'd only helped them in the first place, they wouldn't be stuck in there right now!"

                    "Yeah, and we wouldn't be out here," he countered. 

                    "And you're fine with just leaving them in there?!" The volume rose a little in my voice. Perhaps I was being a little more emotional than I intended to? No. There were people that were important to me and they were about to die. I had every right to be emotional. 

                    "Look," Billy continued, trying to calm me down, "I know it doesn't seem fair, maybe even cold. But we had to do what we did to ensure our own safety. We didn't deliberately put our friends in any sort of danger. If they fail to escape, then that is their own downfall, no matter how regrettable."

                    "I can't believe I'm even …" I wasn't able to finish the sentence. It seemed that despite having escaped Raccoon City, fate still had a tendency to have me knocked unconscious. And that was what happened again for the third time in three days. The warm light of the sun, the chirping of the birds in the forest, the smell of the fresh clean air was swallowed up by a black void in less than a second - along with my consciousness.

                                                                        *                    *                    *

                    I don't know how long it had been at that point, when I started to get feeling in my fingers. A sharp pain made its way down my spin, the pain of having something collide with my back. I tried wiggling my toes and they did. So I wasn't paralyzed, but I still couldn't see anything. Then I tried opening my eyes. It was difficult at first, peeling my lids that had been caked shut by crusted blood. And that's when the headache started. It started as a dull ache from within the depths of my brain and spread outwards to the edge of my skull. 

                    Then I remembered Billy. I rolled over onto my back and tried getting up, fighting against the force of gravity against my broken body. The wound in my leg began screaming again, torn open by the airborne debris colliding with me, thrown into the air from the force of the explosion. Every part of my body that could possibly hurt did. I noted a particular sharp, radiating pain coming from my left forearm, my right shoulder and both my ankles. Ignoring the pain, my eyes scanned the surrounding area for Billy, but he was nowhere to be found. 

                    "Leave us alone," a familiar voice said, from somewhere in the distance. Someone was angry, having shouting these cold words at another person. "You're looking for your brother, right?" I squinted, perking my ears up just a little higher to hear exactly who was doing the talking. The familiar threatening attitude, the loss of patience for the victim receiving these thoughtless words … it could only be Leon! He had made it out of there along with someone else! Could it have been Ada? 

                    I started running in the direction of the voice. As I approached the edge of the forest, I realized that I hadn't even made it that far from the edge of the tunnel. I had only run deeper into the forest where the explosion from the underground lab spread. No wonder it was able to knock me out cold. But standing a hundred feet from the mouth were three figures and one of them had indeed been Leon. It was hard to tell at first. The three of them looked identical with a caked-on layer of dust and debris. I could only tell that one of them was a child. Upon seeing them, I was made aware of the seriousness of their argument. 

                    The woman that was with them didn't look happy. She backed off slowly, putting space between herself and Leon and the child. She rubbed her hand across her face, what I could guess as wiping her tears away. But Leon remained insensitive, keeping his posture tall and firm, holding the child close to his body with an arm. "Just go!"

                    His latest outburst even made me jump as it echoed throughout the barren land just beyond the forest edge. For the pretty brunette girl he was shouting at, it was the last straw. She turned around and walked away trying to keep her head high. Something inside of me wanted to run up to her and tell her everything was going to be all right. The worst was over. She made it out of Raccoon alive. But yet …

                    "I …" she stumbled over her own words, clearly hurt by what Leon had just said, "I'll be back. I promise!!" She exploded into a run, heading straight towards my direction, getting farther and farther away from her comrades. As she approached me, I began preparing a few words to say to her, perhaps to encourage her to stay with Leon and the child. We were the survivors of the Raccoon City disaster and I didn't believe a little argument should get in the way of what could have been a real bonding experience. 


	9. Chapter 7: Classified Information

                "Hey there," I called out, in a friendly tone. But instead of smiling back at me like one would normally except, with impossibly quick reflexes, she drew a handgun from her waist and aimed it point blank at my forehead. My hands shot up into the air – the warm friendliness I intended to express gone just like that – all within a second. 

                "Who are you?!" the pretty girl demanded. She had a round, gentle face. Light brown locks of hair hung tiredly in wisps around it. Her crystal eyes stared intensely into my own, their bright blue color making the gaze all the more intense. 

                "K…Kenneth Feng," I replied, studdering in fear. "I heard the explosion and I …"

                She recognized my name in an instant for some reason. My heart leapt. Finally, for once in my life, a pretty girl knew ME and I didn't know HER! "I'm so sorry," she said, withdrawing her gun immediately, tucking in back into its holster than hung by her thigh. That was when I noticed her clothes – a tight fitting black t-shirt over pink denim shorts that, if not for the black spandex shorts underneath, would've left nothing to the imagination. 

                "You … know me?" I asked, gulping back a wad of spit. 

                "Leon told me about you," she replied, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "He was really worried about you, when he went back to the S.T.A.R.S. room back and the precinct and found you gone."

                "Yeah I shouldn't have left so abruptly like that," I admitted. "I just wanted to get out of that godforsaken city as fast as I could. I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"

                "Oh, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, extending her hand. She sniffed the remaining mucus in her nasal cavity – a sure sign she'd been crying. "I'm Claire, Claire Redfield."

                "That was quite an argument you had back there, Claire," I said, pointing towards Leon's general direction. She glanced back, surprised to see him and Sherry still standing there, looking lost, wondering what to do next. Claire coldly turned their back on them and faced me again.

                "Leon doesn't understand what finding my brother means to me," she said, looking towards the ground. 

                "Your brother …" I rubbed my chin in thought. "You know, Redfield is a pretty uncommon last name. Chris, was it?"

                Her eyes widened in surprise. "Yeah, that's him! How do you know him?"

                "I worked with Chris at the precinct," I replied. 

                "YOU worked at the precinct?" She looked at me up and down suspiciously. 

                "Work experience."

                "Ah." A short pause ensued. "So … sorry to be so direct but, do you have any idea where Chris could be?"

                "Look, I'm not even supposed to know, and if he wanted you to know, he would've told you, right?" I felt like one of those people I hate, answering questions with questions, complicating the matter more that it needed to be my the mere twisting of words. 

                "I just want to know where he is," Claire said. "I want to know if he's alright. If you know something, please tell me."

                "In Europe," I answered sheepishly. Chris would kill me if he found out Claire knew. Hell, I wasn't even supposed to know …

                                                                                *              *              *

                _The summer heat was getting the better of me. I felt sleepy and nauseous at the same time, and the police precinct, being made practically of windows, didn't do anything to intensify the heat. I walked down the hallway, past the statue holding the red jewel and down the corridor to where the S.T.A.R.S. room was. In my arms, I held a silver tray in one hand with boxes of doughnuts of all kinds – chocolate dip, maple dip, long johns, sprinkled … In the other I had a huge pitcher of coffee about twenty five percent of my height. It weighed my arm down to the point where my shoulder was starting to cry out in pain by a series of throbs. _

_                I opened the door to the S.T.A.R.S. room, albeit with a little difficulty with my full hands. The overwhelming stench of body odor assaulted my senses as the S.T.A.R.S. members ran about the room in a frenzy like nobody's business. I headed over to Captain Wesker's desk at the head of the room. Since his death at the mansion, the S.T.A.R.S. members have been acting a little differently. I expected them to show some remorse. I mean Wesker was a cold guy, but you'd think that working in such close quarters with someone will form some kind of bond between the both of you, right? It felt as if I was the one to be most affected by his death.  The only person kind enough to help me out was Rebecca, the nice rookie of the entire group. _

_                "That looks heavy," she said, taking the coffee pitcher from me. _

_                "I can handle it," I said, grasping back for it. Rebecca only rolled her eyes. _

_                "Boys…"_

_                "Hey! How's my favorite little tike?" Chris asked, simultaneously rubbing my head, thus crushing it into my shoulders with one hand, grabbing a doughnut off the tray with another._

_                "I'm okay, Mr. Redfield," I replied. _

_                "Tch, Mr. Redfield," Chris scoffed. "I told you, I want none of that formality bullshit."_

_                "Oh, let it go, Chris," Jill called from her desk as she waved her hand. "Kenny's just being polite, like any respectable prospecting police officer should be." She turned her attention to me. "You have any mail for me this morning, hun?"_

_                "Yes ma'am," I replied, walking over to her desk. I reached into my shoulder bag and pulled out a stack of envelopes, handing it over to her. Jill sifted through her mail quickly, pausing as she got to a magazine. "Playboy August edition, huh?" she asked, raising her eyebrow at me. _

_                "Oops, I think that belongs to Mr. Redfield."_

_                Chris overheard and choked, a nice chunk of chewed up doughnut flying from his mouth. "Ah … put that on my desk, heh heh."_

_                "Yes sir." I walked over to the table adjacent to Jill's and placed the magazine onto the table. I reached back into the shoulder bag, looking for more mail with Chris's name on it and placed the enveloped on the table. However upon turning around, the shoulder back scraped some stacks of paper off his desk, scattering them all over the floor. I instinctively crouched to the ground and gathered them as fast as I could. "I'm sorry."_

_                I never saw Chris move so quickly in my life. He dashed over from the doughnut pile on Wesker's desk over to his and began helping me sort out the papers. "Don't worry about it, kiddo, let me handle this one."_

_                "But I …" that's when I saw what he was so worried about. I held up two plane tickets in my hand. I hardly had time to take a good look at it when he viciously snatched them from my grasp. "Sorry, Kenny. Classified information. You didn't get a good look at that, did you?"_

_                "No, sir."_

_                "Bullshit."_

_                "Yes, sir. You're leaving for __France__ in a few weeks. How come? I didn't record any vacation leaves this month, at least none from the S.T.A.R.S members."_

_                "This is a top secret mission, Kenny," Jill explained calmly. "Nobody is supposed to know about this, not the police officers, not even Mr. Irons himself. So please, don't tell anyone about this, okay?"_

_                "I won't."_

_                "She means it, kiddo," Chris said, grabbing me by the shoulder and wagging his finger at me. "Do not tell ANYBODY."_

_                "Yes, sir."_

_                                                                                *              *              *_

"Where in Europe?" Claire asked, the urgency in her voice rising with intensity. 

                "They don't want me telling anybody …" 

                "PLEASE, Kenny, you have to tell me! I've been so worried about Chris for the past few months. I haven't even gotten phone calls. His never answers his messages anymore, he didn't even tell me or his closest friends that he was leaving. Just tell me my mind can rest. I won't tell anyone."

                "You have to swear to me, Claire," I said, holding up my pinky.

                "Oh god, I haven't done this since high school."

                "Pinky-swear, Claire!"

                "Alright, I pinky-swear." We let our baby fingers lock for three seconds as I stared into her eyes. 

                "He went to Paris, France."


	10. Chapter 8: Pursuit

                I sauntered out of the bushes, half limping, half walking. Claire was gone. Despite our brief meeting, I was beginning to get real worried about the girl. She didn't look like the warrior type, with her petite figure, gentle flowing hair and crystal blue eyes. I believed that she was Chris's sister. I could see a lot of his facial features in her. They were really similar around the mouth – the way her lips were pressed when she was drilling the whereabouts of her brother from me – it was just as stern as Chris's, if not more so just because she was a girl. If it weren't for Leon telling me about her, I would've never believed she made it out of Raccoon alive. Then again, look at me. The chances of someone like me surviving were slim to none. Had I not run into the people I did … I didn't even want to consider what could've happened. 

                The little girl was the first to see me, as she gripped Leon tighter around the waist as she noticed me approach. He took notice of her sudden fear, glancing in my direction to see what could've been the cause of her reaction, reaching into his holster to pull out his handgun. 

                "It's me," I said weakly. All the energy was gone from my body at this point, as if the weight of guilt on my shoulders for telling Claire where Chris was wasn't enough. I now not only endangered Chris's cover, but Claire's life as well. I couldn't enjoy my newfound freedom knowing that both their lives were potentially in danger because of me. 

                "Kenny!" Leon cried, somewhat surprised to find me outside, alive and well. "Are you alright?!"

                "You look worse," I pointed out, motioning to the bandage around his chest. "What happened to you?"

                "I got shot …" he shamefully admitted. "I guess they didn't train me for this kind of disaster."

                "Who did?" I asked. 

                "Her mom." He looked down at Sherry as he spoke. 

                "What?!"

                "She was actually shooting at Ada," Leon began, "but I intercepted and got shot in the process. It wasn't worth it if you ask me."

                "No, I didn't trust Ada from the second I laid eyes on that woman," I continued. "I could sense something about her … something that I didn't like."

                "You've got good intuition. Ada was a spy sent in by an unknown organization to steal the G-Virus. I mean … er …"

                "Look, I really don't care about all this classified information bullshit," I said, throwing my hands in the air. "I'm just glad we escaped the city with our lives. But the question is, where do we go from here?"

                "We can get back to my place just under an hour from here."

                "I think we better get to a hospital first," I suggested. 

                "That's right!" Leon said, slapping his hand to his forehead. "Sorry, it's just the past few hours have been so … traumatizing that I've forgotten about our own injuries. Sherry over here had a nasty parasite inside her, but I think Claire got rid of it successfully."       

                "You know, you didn't have to yell at her like that," I said, remembering the fight I overheard.

                "What are you talking about?" he asked innocently. 

                I shot him a frown. "Don't act all innocent, Leon. You were loud enough."

                He gave up his act and spoke honestly. "Finding her brother was more important to her than helping Sherry get back to civilization safe and sound."

                "But it's her brother…"

                "… who happens to be a S.T.A.R.S. member, as opposed to Sherry who is just a child," Leon snapped, cutting me off promptly. "He is more capable of taking of himself than Sherry is."

                "Sherry has you." 

                "I just didn't think she would ditch us like that."

                "Claire came into town on a mission, and though she's survived, her mission isn't over yet. And I think I've just endangered her life even more by telling her where Chris is."

                Leon's eyes widened. "You know where he is?!" I instinctively bit my tongue, accidentally letting the secret out again. 

                "Look, it's nothing really."

                "HEY!!" somebody shouted from the distance, thankfully interrupting us before Leon could force the information out of me as well. There was a group of three … they looked like S.W.A.T. members or something, their heads covered with a thick looking helmet, their faces barely visible underneath a plastic visor. 

                "Thank god," Leon said under his breath, as he turned around to face them. "We just managed to escape from Raccoon city as we're …" His words went unnoticed as the first S.W.A.T. guy dashed for Leon, seizing his arm in the process, taking the rookie officer down to the ground within a few seconds. "Hey, what …" Leon protested, but was silenced as the larger man pushed his chest into the ground, knocking the wind out of him. 

                The other two came for me and Sherry. Her assaulter picked her up effortlessly off the ground, with her kicking and screaming in protest. I turned around to run, but something hit my shins hard, knocking me swiftly off my feet. The third S.W.A.T. member performed a crouching sweep, expertly kicking his leg out, tripping me in the process. He seized me painfully by the elbow and single-handedly yanked me to my feet and with his hands grasping my wrists, locked my arms painfully behind my back. 

                "What the fuck is going on?!" Leon demanded as he was being cuffed. I felt the cold metal slip around my wrists as well, my heart sinking upon hearing the click of the lock. 

                "The three of you are to be taken into quarantine," Leon's captor said with a gruff voice, muffled by the helmet. "Raccoon City was sealed off from the public for a reason. Nobody was supposed to leave the city alive due to a virus threat."

                "We don't have the virus!" I shouted, but that only earned me a slap to the back of the head.

                "That's for the doctors to determine."

                                                                                *                *                *

                I expected them to take us to some kind of lab where they would probe us or something. But no, they took us to what looked like a hospital. There was no way of telling where we were going because Sherry, Leon and I were stuffed into the back of a Dodge work van – you know, the kind you see rapists driving in on T.V.

                But the room they placed me in – and where I was now, was quite comfortably furnished with a bed in one corner, and a small wooden desk beside that. There was an old looking sofa near the entrance of the room and a window across from the bed that now sat open, allowing the fresh breeze to blow through. They only opened the bloody thing after the doctors determined that I was virus free. You should've seen them too, wearing the bio-suits as if I had some kind of freak contagious disease. 

                It was nice to be out of Raccoon, but I was starting to question whether it would be better for us to have died in the explosion. Now that we were out, our futures were insecure. I was an exchange student studying in the United States, and they wanted to keep me for observation. But if they let me back home to Japan, would the Japanese government allow me re-entry due to the fact that I COULD have a deadly contagious disease? It was hard to determine at this point, and I wasn't familiar enough with the law to successfully predict my own fate. The only thing I could do was wait … and worry. And it wasn't like I could leave this place either. No matter how comfortable the room looked, it was still a prison. The door was bolted locked from the outside. 

                There was a knock. "Come in," I called out. That's strange. Despite the hostility we first encountered before coming here, they now had the decency to knock before entering a room. Whoever these people were, they sure had their priorities wrong.

                A tall man entered with a doctor, dismissing the doctor off at the entrance. I could immediately sense the authority this man had – even the doctor had scurried away like a terrified mouse after being dismissed. He had blond hair, and was dressed in a black Armani suit. His shoes alone would've paid for an entire year of my tuition. He had on a pair of sunglasses that …

                "Captain Wesker!" I called, more surprised than anything. I began feeling faint. He was supposed to have died a few months ago. I could do nothing but stare fearfully into the sunglasses that stared back expressionlessly. "How did you …"

                "Don't believe everything you hear, Kenny," he said, the familiar deep voice boomed from under such a calm looking exterior. "I'm sure Chris and the others told you I died during the mansion incident, but fortunately, I was rescued and restored."

                "But by who?" I asked, the fear slowly subsiding in my voice. "And why didn't you come back to the precinct to let everyone know you were okay?"

                "It's … a complicating issue," he replied. "I was so worried about the others when I heard what happened to Raccoon …" He started coughing violently into his hand for a few moments. It wasn't one of those something-in-your-throat coughs. It was more like a smoker's cough, a smoker who's growing a nice garden of cancer in his lungs. 

                "You got a cold or something?"

                "No, I'm fine. My body is still healing."

                "I should tell the others that you're okay."

                "I don't want anyone to know. I just wanted to know if the others are dead … or alive. I don't work for the Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. unit anymore."

                "They're alright … But Jill … she's still in Raccoon. I hope she makes it out alive." 

"I hope so too."

"Who do you work for?"

                "I can't tell you that."

                I rolled my eyes. "Enough with all these secrets. I'm sick of classified information that I've promised to keep, classified information Leon has to keep – did anyone ever stop to think that maybe if we shared information, all of this could've been prevented in the first place? I mean if Umbrella really is that big of a threat …"

                "How do you know that?" he asked, suddenly sounding very angry. 

                I tried hiding what I knew. "Well isn't it obvious enough that Umbrella was behind Raccoon City's destruction?"

                "No ordinary citizen would've known that," Wesker said, folding his arms. "What happened to you in Raccoon City? How did you escape? Who did you meet?" He stepped closer with every question, forcing me back until I was cornered against the wall. His attempt to intimidate me was working, as he was so close now I had to look up just to make eye contact. He was tall enough at six feet, but I was just short of five foot seven. He almost had half a foot on me. Not to mention he was an experienced S.T.A.R.S. captain and I was a prepubescent high-school law student. 

                "Something's wrong with you, Captain," I said, noticing the aggression in his voice. Why would he be asking me all these questions? It's as if he knew something about Raccoon's destruction and didn't want me knowing … like he was somehow responsible for it. He took off his sunglasses revealing grotesque reptilian eyes, causing me to jump in surprise.

                "Tell me, Kenny," he hissed, "what do you know?" His face was now unbearably close to mine and that snake-like glare … it was too terrifying to look directly at. I don't know what it was, but something inside me screamed. Perhaps it was the pent up stress accumulating over the past few nights, or maybe it was the fact that I had the most mysterious member of the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. staring at me in the face like a snake glaring at its prey before swallowing it whole. But I clenched my fist and sent it flying across Wesker's face. The force wasn't powerful enough to knock him over, but it definitely caught him off guard, giving me a small window of time to escape. I felt his cold skin of his cheeks against my knuckles as the force of my fist pushed him backwards a little. 

                Taking advantage of the few seconds I bought myself, I dashed past Wesker. It had only been another few seconds when he was up and running at my heels. I pushed past the door that he'd forgotten to close on the way in and into the hallway – the hallway that I actually got to see for the first time without being strapped into a portable bed. But there was no time to enjoy the scenery, as I pushed past doctors and nurses alike, trying desperately to get some space between me and the psycho captain.

                "Somebody call security!! Wesker screamed. "This patient is trying to escape!" 

                "This guy's a fucking murderer!!" I hollered back. "He's responsible for the Raccoon City disaster!!" I was aware of just how ridiculous I sounded – just like a mental patient. And that belief was reinforced as I noticed some odd glances in my direction … that is, BEFORE I pushed them out of the way as I ran. 

                The two glass doors that served as the exit were quickly approaching. Then again, so was Wesker. Adrenaline fueled my body as I continued sprinting for my freedom, although I didn't doubt that Wesker would pursue me even if I left the hospital. The doors slid open too slowly, and I crashed into them. It seemed like they were made of plexiglass or something because they didn't even crack upon my heavy impact. I could feel the blond dripping from my nose down my face. I landed on the floor and Wesker was moving too quickly to stop himself. His foot kicked into my ribs and he was sent flying THROUGH one of the doors, taking out the glass, shattering it into little cubes that rained down on the both of us. What kind of human could shatter plexiglass moving at that speed? Leon was right about my intuition. I could sense something very wrong with Wesker and it was becoming more and more apparent, from those reptilian eyes to the way the so easily smashed unbreakable glass. Once again, I was able to pick myself up off the ground somehow and continued my way out of the building. I tried to run faster, but the pain in my body from my previously sustained injuries and from when Wesker kicked me in the ribs thwarted my efforts. 

                The sun was shining brightly in the afternoon sky, but the heat wasn't getting the better of me yet. I knew I wouldn't feel completely safe until I left the hospital – and Wesker – far, far behind me. As I passed an alleyway someone swiftly grabbed me by the shoulders, picking me up off my feet and throwing me into a pile of garbage bags. The world was still spinning, my chest was still burning, but all of that melted away when I saw who was responsible for nabbing me. 

                I could've sworn I just saw that face earlier that day, but this one seemed a lot more familiar for some reason. He had short dark brown hair with a medium stocky build, wearing his traditional work clothes – blue pants, shin-high black outdoor boots, and a white T-shirt underneath a green sleeveless outdoor vest. 

                "Relax, Kenny, it's me!" he said. 

                "Mr. Redfield!" I said, astounded. 

                "Let's get out of here." He said, helping me up to my feet. "It's not safe."


	11. Interlude: Crucial Exchange

                Chris and I looked both ways before exiting the alley, making sure the coast was clear. I saw nothing but the sunshine in my eyes, illuminating the city streets with its afternoon rays. I looked into the direction of the hospital for Captain Wesker, hoping that he hadn't bothered to pursue me after I exiting the hospital like a caged hound seeking freedom. In a sense, that's what I felt like. 

                We jogged down the street at a medium pace, occasionally glancing back to make sure nobody was following us. As for the other citizens on the street … we got a few strange looks from them, but nothing to suggest one of them was going to call the cops on us. Not that I blame them. I'd think there'd be something suspicious about two guys running somewhere, making sure nobody was following them. 

                Chris stopped me in front of a run down gray ford truck sitting by a parking meter. "Get in," he ordered. 

                "Where are we going?" I asked. 

                "We're getting the hell away from here." That was a good enough answer for me. He pulled open the door to the passenger side and I jumped in, immediately feeling the heat in the vehicle sear my skin. Reaching over the worn leather seats, I unlocked Chris's door and he entered the vehicle, pulling out the keys from his pockets and inserting it into the ignition. His driving abilities scared the crap out of me as he pulled out at full speed without even looking for oncoming cars. 

                "Whoa! Watch out there!" I cried, holding on the dashboard. "I haven't even gotten my seatbelt on yet."

                He gave me a funny look. "You're telling me how to drive?"

                "Well I'm studying driving theory now," I replied confidently. "I was gonna book my road test soon. But then Raccoon City happened …"

                Chris just smirked, turning his head towards the road. "Whatever you say, Squirt."

                "So … what are you doing around the Raccoon City vicinity?" I asked. 

                "I don't even know I should be letting you in on all this classified information…" That was when I remembered. I told Claire that Chris was in Paris! She was probably on her way there now! But … how? Now that Chris was here, she wouldn't need to travel all the way to France to find her brother. And what if Umbrella was looking for her, just as they were hunting down Leon, Sherry and me? I had to tell Chris about his sister. "I decided to postpone our trip to Umbrella's European location. Barry and I didn't feel good about leaving Jill in Raccoon, especially with what's going on over there now. But when we tried to get back into the city, we found that the authorities had it barricaded. Nobody was allowed in or out. 

"Oh, so that's why they took us …"

"And Jill's in there. They probably won't let her out because she could be infected … But I'll be damned if I ever settle for that. Christ, listen to me talking about her like she's alright. I don't even know if she's alive."

                "She is," I said quickly. 

                Chris looked at me, his eyes suddenly lighting up. "Are you sure!? Jill's really alive!?"

                "I ran into her and one of her friends when I was trying to escape the city," I explained. "She looked hurt. She's … been infected."

                "No …" The light in Chris's eyes suddenly disappeared. "We survived the mansion incident only for her to be infected in the end. I'm aware that you might not know the answer but … do you know if she suffered?"

                "Her friend Carlos was trying to find some kind of a vaccine at the Raccoon hospital. I went with him, but we got separated. I don't know if he managed to save her or not. But Jill's a S.T.A.R.S. member. She's a fighter. I don't know how, but something tells me she'll come out of this alive."

                "Damn, I hope so," Chris mumbled more to himself than to me. "What were you running from earlier?"

                "Mr. Redfield …"

                "Chris, please!" he interrupted. 

                "Alright … Chris …" I began shakily at first, "you're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you. Captain Wesker is alive."

                He paused for a moment and let out a loud laugh. "Do you seriously think you're funny!?" he asked. 

                "No, Mr. Red …, Chris! I'm being serious! He tried to get me to leak information to him about who I was involved with while escaping Raccoon. He said I knew too much and he wanted me to spill the beans on everyone."

                "That's impossible," Chris said stubbornly. "I saw Wesker die in the mansion, right in front of my eyes. The guy was impaled!"

                "Well whoever killed him didn't do a proper job. I swear he's back there and he came looking for me!"

                "Even if Wesker was alive, why would he come after you? If he truly wanted everyone to believe he was dead, then he would've kept a low profile."

                "I don't know why he would bother to come and see me. He only seemed to be interested all of a sudden when I mentioned that I knew Umbrella was behind everything."

                "Umbrella participates in bioweapons research. I wouldn't be surprised if one of their scientists found a way to clone. But whatever the case, the man you saw was NOT Wesker. Like I said, I saw him die."

                I tried to protest, but realized it was no use. As convincing as that man in the hospital was, he couldn't have been Captain Wesker. Sure the guy looked like him, sounded like him and even dressed like him, but Chris would never lie about what he saw. 

                "I'm sorry you got dragged into this, Kenny," Chris said, the regret sounding quite genuine in his voice.

                "Well, I got myself into it …" I replied. "I know too much, and now people know that." Oh right, Claire! "And there's one more little bit of information I have for you that I think you've gotta know."

                "Okay, I'm all ears."

                "But before I tell you, you MUST swear to me that you won't get mad." 

                "What did you do, Kenny?"

                "I didn't do anything! I just … you know … ran into a couple of people and …"

                "What did you do!?" he asked, more firmly this time. I glanced at the steering wheel, purposely avoid eye contact with him, noticing his white knuckled death grip on the steering wheel.

                "You know how you didn't want me to tell anyone where you were going?"

                "You leaked to somebody, didn't you? Damn it, how am I supposed to stay undercover when I've got you running around the place with classified information!?"

                "Relax, Chris! I didn't tell anyone outside of S.T.A.R.S.!"

                "Who did you spill to?"

                "Your sister, Claire." The car screeched to a halt suddenly. I found my body being thrown towards the dashboard and I had to push my hands forwards to prevent my face from carving a mold into it.

                "You told Claire!?" he asked, trying hard to surpress the anger I could sense building up. "Do you realize what you've done? Now she's gonna come looking for me and Umbrella will take notice of her and probably use her to try and bring us down! You've dragged her into this mess that's supposed to concern ONLY the S.T.A.R.S. members! Kenny, how could you be so stupid!?"

                "Are you sure it was Claire and not some Umbrella spy?"

                "She looked like you."

                "God DAMN!" He smashed the sides of his fists into the horn of the steering wheel, resulting in a brief honk. 

                "Look," I said calmly, taking my seatbelt off. "I know I wasn't supposed to say anything, but Claire was genuinely worried about you. She was caught up in the mess long before I had anything to do with it. She went into Raccoon City to look for you on her own accord. If you had told her what you were up to in the first place, she would have never gone to Raccoon and put herself in that kind of situation. She survived pure hell just to find out where you were and came out with nothing more than she went in with. I think she deserved that much. And if you still have a problem with that, maybe I was better off with Wesker back at the hospital." I opened up the car door and prepared to step out.

                "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, the look on his face telling me that if I dared to step out of the truck, it would be Raccoon City all over again for me.

                "I've caused enough trouble for you," I replied simply.

                "That doesn't mean I want you to get nabbed by the Umbrella agents. You're coming with me to headquarters."


	12. Chapter 9: Kenny's Secrets

We pulled up to a modest looking home with two stories. Actually, modest isn't the right word to describe it. Most of the dark blue paint coating the outer walls had peeled off, or were well on their way. Most of the building was brown, the color of the original wood underneath. The front door was nearly off its hinges and the porch just in front of it threatened to swallow any unaware visitor with its rickety planks. The place was a classic hole. 

"It's not exactly the Hyatt," Chris admitted, "but it's our temporary hideout for now."

"Looks cozy enough," I said, trying to hide my disappointment. Then again, I didn't really know what to expect in the first place.

"Can I trust you to keep this location a secret?"

I looked at him, feeling a little insulted. "It's not like I go around telling people everything. I understand the situation more than you think I do."

"Alright, whatever," Chris said, holding up his palms in defeat. "Just get inside. Barry's in there. You remember him, don't you?"

"Oh, Mr. Burton?・I remembered him. He was a big middle-aged guy, teetering on overweight side, but he had a lot of muscle to go with his fat. I always thought of him as a teddy-bear type character, with his balding hair and a full goatee. It's as if someone shaved off his hair and re-attached it to his chin. He was a jolly man, probably due to the fact that he's a father. I've seen pictures of his daughters on his desk before … and the older one who's supposedly around my age is quite a looker. I don't remember her name, but I've seen her walking around the halls of Raccoon High before…

As we stepped into the rundown building, I could feel the floorboards squeak pitifully under my weight. I walked gently, in fear that they would break and I'd go plunging into the basement. And if the upper levels of the home were in this bad shape, I'd hate to see what kind of parasitic life the basement held for me. You'd think Raccoon City would've hardened me up. I'll deal with monsters and zombies, but rats … thinking about them gave me goose bumps. 

Chris unfastened his green outdoor vest and threw it onto an antique coat hanger, but missed it completely. He glanced over at it, shrugged, and continued on his way inside the house. I picked it up and hung it properly, simultaneously removing my shoes at the door. 

"You don't wanna do that," Chris advised, turning back to face me. "Some of the nails in the floorboards stick up. You can slice your foot up pretty well on those things." I immediately put my shoes back on. 

"Who's there?!" somebody called from deep inside the house.   
"Don't worry, Barry, it's just me!" Chris replied. I heard the heavy footsteps of somebody approaching. "We've got a guest."

"Oh yeah?" Barry's full form appeared from the stairway leading down into … the basement!

"I'm sure you remember Kenny," Chris said, motioning me closer. "You know, he's the kid volunteering at the precinct."

"Hello, Mr. Burton," I said, waving my hand. 

"Barry's eyes widened. "You made it out of Raccoon?!" he said, sounding quite amazed.

"I was lucky," I replied. "I ran into a few people who helped me escape."

"There are more survivors, Chris," Barry said, his voice resonating with hope. 

"And I ran into Jill," I added, successfully predicting Barry's next question. 

"She's infected with the T-Virus," Chris continued, "and according to Kenny, they're trying to find a vaccine for her."

"They?" Barry asked. 

"She's got a friend with her," I said, "His name is Carlos. But … he looked like an Umbrella operative. He had these army clothes displaying the Umbrella logo." 

"That's crazy!" Barry exclaimed. "Jill would know better than to trust an Umbrella operative."

"I've been saying a lot of crazy things lately," I replied, "but I know what I saw. And Captain Wesker is alive."

"You didn't see Captain Wesker," Chris snapped. 

"You think what you want to, but do not question what I saw. It was him."

"Look, Kenny," Barry said, approaching me and putting his broad hand on my shoulder. "You've been through a lot simply by managing to escape Raccoon City. I suggest you get some rest."

"You've got to do something about Jill," I insisted. 

"You know we will," Chris assured. "But for now, you should listen to Barry and get yourself some rest. There's a spare bedroom upstairs, but you'll have to forgive its condition."

"Alright." I walked towards the staircase leading upstairs just a few feet from the entrance. "Oh, and Chris, I'm sorry that I told Claire about you. She's probably finding some way over to Europe to go get you. And if the Umbrella agents have a tab on her…" 

"Leave Claire to me. Just get up there and rest for now."

* * * 

I was awaked by a rapping at the front door. It was quite a distance away being downstairs at the opposite end of the house. But the house was so rundown that even such a weak force vibrated through the entire building. Whoever was knocking seemed to be pretty impatient. Or maybe I just didn't wake up that quickly.

Groggily, I got out of bed and slipped into my sneakers. It wasn't actually a bed … more like a grungy mattress with an even grungier pillow and no blanket. I don't think I would've even used a blanket if it was provided - knowing it would've been all over that filthy mattress. 

The rapping continued. "Coming!" I yelled. Why weren't Chris and Barry answering the door? Hell, why didn't they just break the damn door down? I descended the stairs and looked around, but there was no sign of life. Perhaps they left the house? I walked over to the door and opened it, surprised at who was standing there. 

"Ada?!" I nearly cried. "I thought you …" 

"You thought I died?" she asked in her mysterious sultry voice. This was indeed the coldest woman I'd ever met. She kept the same level of temperament regardless of the situation. She was this calm and collected in Raccoon City and she was the same way right now.

"Well, yeah," I replied. "It's just that when you didn't show up outside the underground laboratory like Leon and Sherry had, I just assumed you died in the explosion."

"I'm not that easy to kill," she said proudly, but the pride from her cold face suddenly gave way to anguish  - the first sign of emotion I've seen out of that woman. She gripped her side and grimaced in pain.

"What's wrong?" I asked her. 

"I got injured as I was trying to escape," she explained. 

"You should get yourself to a hospital," I advised. "Leon's there right now, actually. He's recovering." Hmm … perhaps I should have told Chris about Leon and Sherry as well, seeing as how it was by pure luck I ran into him and he brought me back here.

"I don't want Leon to know I've survived," Ada said. 

"But why would you want him to keep on believing that you're dead?"

Ada opened her mouth to speak but she just sighed instead. "It's a long story."

"Are you really a spy?" I didn't want to waste anymore time beating around the bush with her.

"What would make you say …"

"I know already. So just give up the innocent act. How did you find out where I was and why did you come to see me?"

And indeed the innocent act vanished into thin air. "I came looking for something you have that is of great interest to me."

"What?"  
"No ordinary high school kid could take the beating you endured and still performed as well as you did."

"Elaborate."

"You were attacked by that giant worm and it gashed your leg pretty badly. Yet you can still walk. Before Billy took you from the clock tower, he told me he left you on the street to go find some help because you'd been knocked unconscious. But yet when he found you only a few hours later, your reflexes were good, good enough to survive the fight with the giant worm."

"I … I don't know how to explain that …" 

"Then let me explain it for you," Ada said aggressively, pushing me inside the house while barging her way through the doorway. "I was sent into Raccoon to retrieve a sample of the G-Virus. But instead, I find something far more interesting - YOU. You are no ordinary teenager, Kenny. There's something inside of you that can resist the G-Virus – otherwise you would've turned into a zombie when that worm gashed you. And I believe it's that same power responsible for you exceptional performance in the field."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." This woman was crazy. It sounded like I was trying to hide something, but in all honesty, I had nothing to hide! How am I supposed to explain the functions of my body? 

"I've done some … research," she said, carefully wording her sentence. "Your father was a scientist was he not?"

"He worked for a scientific corporation in Japan," I replied. 

"Is that all?"

"As far as I know."

"Well I have evidence that suggests that he was working for one of Umbrella's Asian locations, one of which just so happens to be located in Osaka, Japan."

"One, I don't see how that has anything to do with me. Secondly, my father is dead. So if you want to see him, you're outta luck, lady."

"Your father created something powerful, something called the Shadow Technology before he ever got involved with the Umbrella Corporation. This captured their interests and your father agreed to sell them this technology for a hefty price. However, shortly after the transaction went through, your father was murdered by the agents of crime syndicate that goes by the name of Shadowlaw. And the only sample of the Shadow Technology left is inside of you."

"How did you know my father worked for Shadowlaw?!" I asked, suddenly becoming extremely alarmed. This woman knew things about me that I hardly told anyone.

"My boyfriend John was the Umbrella scientist that helped with the payment for the Shadow Technology from your father. Since he's dead, and because you hold the only specimen left of the Shadow Technology, I have come here to see you."

"No," I started backing away. I tried to call Chris and Barry, but I was so stunned that my vocal chords refused to work for me.

"Why do you think Captain Wesker came by the hospital to see you today?"

"But Wesker says he no longer works for Umbrella," I said. 

"And neither do I. But that doesn't mean our present employer isn't interested in the Shadow Technology. I want you to come with me."

"I'll never go with you," I spat. "You may have helped me survive Raccoon City, but you know, I never trusted you from the start."

"Kenny, I helped you and Billy escape from the underground laboratory with your lives. Is this the thanks I get?"

"You were probably only keeping me alive so that you could harvest whatever it is I have."

"Then perhaps this will persuade you." She drew a gun from her red cocktail skirt and pointed it at me. "I suggest you co-operate, Kenny. If you don't care about your own life, then at least think about Chris and Barry. I've got this place marked, you know."

"Chris and Barry have nothing to do with you! Their problem is with Umbrella!"

"If you don't give me what I want, I will tell Wesker about their whereabouts. I hear he's aching for revenge for what happened at the mansion."

I gave up at that point. I'd caused enough trouble for the S.T.A.R.S. members already. It was time to take this bitch off their back. With a lowered head, I walked over to the kitchen. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to write them a note. You haven't won, Ada. Keep that in mind."

"Oh, I will," she said smirking.


	13. Chapter 10: Branding of a Traitor

**Darkblade****: **I'm glad you're enjoying this story. I'm also very glad that more and more people are taking the time to review. I remember when I first started this fic, hardly anybody was reviewing. I didn't even know if people were reading my shit. But I'm a little more confident now. 

**AnimaSola****: **The only thing you missed by not reading Kenny's other adventures is … the stories. I try and keep each story completely separate from each other, with the exception of a few elements crossing over. The Shadow Technology was featured in my fic entitled "Act 1" based on the street fighter video games. But the background is also explained in this fic, so reading the others is never a prerequisite to enjoying this one. 

**Lost Survivor: **Kenny's not gonna be fighting alongside S.T.A.R.S. As you'll see further in this chapter, he'll be allying himself with the one, the only, Umbrella corporation. But why? Read on to find out ;)

**E-Z B: **Ah! I'm not trying to incorporate any story elements from street fighter into this story! I just want people to understand Kenny's background a little more in-depth. Looks like I may have to fix something …

**Twin Snake: **I'm happy to hear you're enjoying the stuff I'm producing! I only used Billy because he was a free character to use. He's virtually unheard of by the time RE2 comes around, so I felt like I was free to use him however I want, unlike Leon and Claire who have to retain their roles in the original games (since this fic is supposed to follow the events of the Resident Evil series to a T … pardon the pun … T … T-Virus, get it? HAH!!! *ahem*)

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

                I trudged from the hallway of the house deeper inside to the kitchen with Ada closely behind. I couldn't physically feel it, but I sensed the gun pointed at my back. I eyes jolted around the room looking for some means of escaping. I didn't know what I was thinking at the time. If I actually managed to escape, she would tell Captain Wesker about Barry and Chris and I couldn't risk putting them in danger. I had to co-operate with the crazy woman.

                Knowing that she already had me on a leash, Ada suddenly said, "I'm going outside to wait for you. Don't be too long." At least she was polite enough to give me some privacy.

                There was a blue cell phone lying in the middle of the kitchen counter weighing down a sheet of paper. I walked over to the counter and looked at the note. 

                _Kenny, _

_Barry's gone out to search Raccoon for Jill. I've gone with him to help refuel the copter. Use this to call us if there's any trouble. I'll be back in a few hours with some dinner. Don't leave the house._

_Chris_

After reading the last note, a terrified whimper escaped from my lips. I hardly noticed it. I was too busy wishing they were back so they could kick this bitch's ass. I couldn't let my fear get the better of me though … doing so would endanger me and the others as well. Clearing my mind of any thoughts, I reached for the pen lying adjacent to the note. I quickly sketched a cartoon umbrella and scribbled the letters S.O.S. underneath. I then pocketed the phone, slipping it gently into my pocket – as if it was going to make a sound that Ada could hear from outside – and headed for the main door. At least now I had a way of communicating with Chris, but that would have to wait for now, not with the crazy woman paying attention to me. 

                "I'm ready to get going," I said, stepping onto the porch. The cool night air blew around me. It felt good to get some fresh air after all that sleep. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, spreading its last rays of day across the land, tinting everything around us with an orange hue. "Where are you taking me?"

                "Back to headquarters," she replied, her long straight locks of black hair gently swaying around her face.

                "Are you going to kill me?"

                She looked back at me and smirked. "Not if you make things easy for me."

                "How do you plan on removing the thing from my body?"

                "It's called the Shadow Technology, Kenny," she explained. "We're hoping a simple surgery will be enough to do the trick." She was being so nice … and just a moment ago, Ada had a gun pointed at me. "Killing you isn't a priority for us. But since you know enough about our organization to do some serious harm, you will be undergoing a complete memory wipe after the technology is extracted from you."

                So they weren't going to kill me, but the thought of them ripping something from me was terrifying enough. I didn't want to go through an unnecessary surgery, not then and definitely not now. But by the way she dangled the threat of killing other people above my head, I didn't have much choice.

                I made my way over to the van, kissing away my last chance at freedom. I could run, but people would die. I could stay, but then I'd be violated. I weighed the pros and cons in my head, deciding that other people's lives were more important than a few hours of violation. This was one of those times where I had to suffer for other people. Though something inside of me told me to run, I struggled to suppress the temptation and hesitantly climbed into the passenger seat of the awaiting white van. 

                Ada walked around to the driver side and shut the door. She tilted her chin at the dashboard, where I saw a blindfold sitting comfortably, waiting for me. "Put that on," she ordered. "I don't want you seeing anything you're not supposed to see."

                I reached over and wrapped the black piece of fabric over my eyes. It was long enough to go around twice and I tied it into a knot. "I need your finger." Ada groaned and put her finger on the knot while I tied a second one, making sure it was secure and tight. 

                "Are you done?"

                "Yes," I replied. 

                "Good." The van's engine started immediately, zooming away from the side walk. The sudden motion was hard to handle, especially since my vision was obscured in darkness and I almost fell out of my seat. That was when I remembered the seatbelt. My fingers fumbled around for a bit, looking for the buckle and the clip. After clicking the straps together, I leaned my head on the window and tried to get myself to sleep – like I needed anymore. 

                                                                                *              *              *

                I awoke with a start. I tried opening my eyes but I still couldn't see anything. Then I remembered the blindfold. I struggled to take it off, then remembered that doing so would be making things difficult for my captor. 

                "Ada?" I called out. There was no answer. I was sitting in an upright position in what felt like the same leather seat in the van I fell asleep in. I ran my fingers along my sides, feeling the metal door. I finally established that I was still in the car. But where was Ada? It had stopped moving and the only thing I could hear was the chirping of birds far off in the distance. I felt like some kind of blind mouse trapped in a cage and quite frankly, the feeling was getting the better of me. Despite what my gut told me to do, I ripped at the blindfold … but I guess I tied it too tightly. I could get it off but doing so would put me through a lot of pain. 

                "Kenny! Are you awake?"

                "Uh …" I groaned. Funny, all I wanted to do was let the guy know I was alright but that was all that came out. Hold on a second, someone was outside the car tapping on the window. "I'm awake!" I suddenly called out, my mouth finally deciding to cooperate with me. "Get me out of here!"

                "Are you alright?" the stranger asked. 

                "I'm fine, just … who are you?" It suddenly occurred to me that whoever was talking to me might have been the person Ada wanted to take me to see. 

                "It's Leon …"

                "Leon! Get me the fuck outta here!" I screamed, kicking at the door. 

                "I can't," he replied, it's locked from the inside. "I'm going to have to smash the window." I heard his footsteps scurry away. 

                "Leon? Get back here …" I said. 

                "I'm over here." His voice now came from the driver's side of the car.

                "Is Ada still here?" I asked. Then I bit my tongue. She didn't want Leon to know she was still alive. If I told him that she was, Ada would tell Wesker about Chris and Barry …

                "What did you say?" Leon shouted from outside. Apparently my voice must've been as muffled as his was right now through the glass. Relief washed over me. 

                "Nothing! Just break the glass!" I ordered. I could hear him smash something big and hard against the glass. It took three strikes to shatter. I could tell when some of the fragments fell onto me. But it was tempered glass that shattered into cubes, so there was little chance it could hurt me. 

                I heard Leon swiping at the glass fragments, brushing them off the chair before he climbed in. "Come on, Kenny," he said, "climb over the seats slowly. Make sure there's no glass." I hesitantly made my way over to the driver's seat. As soon as I got close enough, I heard the metallic swipe of a blade. 

                "What the hell is that for?" I asked. 

                Without responding, Leon grabbed me by the shoulder with one arm. Something tugged at the back of my head and suddenly, the blindfold fell from my eyes. I don't know why I expected daylight to come shining through because it didn't. Night had fallen and there was not a soul in sight other than Leon. 

                "What happened?" I asked. 

                "I was going to ask you the same thing. If it hadn't been for him, I would've never found you. It looked like you were being kidnapped."

                "If it wasn't for who?" 

                Leon motioned to the van. And for the first time, I actually saw the vehicle – its front smashed up in an accordion style against a thick tree. Thick, suffocating plumes of smoke was pouring out from under the hood. Out of all the smoke, a figure appeared and walked through it into full view. 

                He was a rather largely built man covered in some kind of caramel army suit. He was old, probably in his late forties or early fifties. He didn't have many wrinkles but the ones around the corners of his mouth and the sides of his eyes were pretty deep. His gray hair was cut short in a style similar to Chris's, only shorter – the typical hairstyle for a soldier. 

                "You're lucky that Mr. Hunk found this van when he did," Leon said, introducing me to the man. 

                I held out my hand to shake his, but he just glanced at it for a second, and then looked me straight in the eye. "I recognize that woman you were with just now," he said, skipping over the greeting formalities. "She was sent in to spy on Umbrella. Do you know why she wanted you?"

                "N…no," I lied. I didn't want to get entangled in this mess anymore. I just wanted to find a place with hot shower and a warm, comfortable bed. "She took me from where I was hospitalized and ordered me to come with her."

                "She was trying to take something that belonged to Umbrella," Mr. Hunk explained. "I couldn't let her do that."

                "What do you mean?" I asked. "I don't belong to Umbrella. My father had a business deal with them and …"

                "He died, right?" Mr. Hunk asked, raising an eyebrow. 

                "Yes …"

                "That's what I mean. So you're the next person in line to go to, since he's no longer alive."

                "Hold on a second," Leon said, stepping protectively in front of me to face the mysterious army man. "Just who are you, anyway?"

                "They call me Mr. Death," the man replied, "but I also go by Hunk, or Mr. Hunk. I am an operative of the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service."

                "What the fuck?!" Leon cried jumping back. He quickly drew a gun from his belt buckle and pointed it at the man. His experience in Raccoon must've been good training for him. 

                "Trust me, Junior," Mr. Hunk said, "You don't want to be messing with me."

                "Try me," Leon countered, his voice bursting with confidence – confidence that was shot down in a matter of seconds after Mr. Hunk dashed at him, swiftly grabbing Leon's arm and twisting it behind his back, forcing Leon to drop the gun. 

                "Listen up, and listen well," Mr. Hunk viciously spat into Leon's ear while he grimaced in pain. "I came to the hospital to find a certain spy. Because we ran into each other, and you just so happened to be looking for the same person, I decided to be nice and bring you along with me. Now is this the way you kids thank people nowadays?"

                "B…but Ada died!" Leon cried through clenched teeth. 

                "Then why did you come with me?!" Mr. Hunk demanded. 

                "Because I hoped she was alive …"

                "And have you found your answer?"

                "No."

                "I said, have you found your answer?!" He increased the pressure on Leon's arm. 

                "Yes, now let go!"

                "Good, so what must you say?!" Mr. Hunk twisted further. 

                "Thank you!" he screamed, suddenly getting released. Leon cradled in his injured arm with his other. 

                "Wow, you were OWNED!" I exclaimed in excitement. "You gotta teach me how to do that one day, Mr. Hunk."

                "I got my answer," Leon said, bending down to pick up his gun. "There's no way Ada can still be alive."

                "I saw her driving with him with my own eyes," Mr. Hunk said, nodding his head in my direction. "But if you don't believe me, let the Squirt tell you himself."

                "Leon," I said, not knowing how to put what I was thinking into words. "You didn't actually SEE Ada, did you?"

                "She got away before rookie over here could catch up in his car," Mr. Hunk replied. "But she's alive and well, and she tried taking you to her headquarters, didn't she?"

                "Well, I …"

                "Come on, kiddo, tell the rookie over here who kidnapped you. Tell him so he knows."

                "Ada's alive, Leon. Alive and well."

                "Good, now if you would be so kind to come with me, Kenny," Mr. Hunk requested politely. 

                "I don't want to …" I said. 

                "Do you think we're going to harm you like that spy who kidnapped you?" Mr. Hunk asked. "You were bought by Umbrella nine years ago."

                "How?!"

                "We paid for the technology inside of you fair and square. Your technological makeup cannot be separated from your biological makeup. Doing so would kill you. Therefore, you are much more valuable to us alive."         

                "I'm afraid I don't follow," I continued, trying to play the innocent role for as long as I could keep it up. 

"Do you want to know more about yourself and your father?" Mr. Hunk asked. 

"Well … yeah but …"

"Then come with me, and I will tell you everything."

"Don't go, Kenny. You know you can't trust Umbrella."

"Ada told me about the technology inside me," I admitted. "But I don't know anything about my family. I … I would really like to know."

"I can't believe you're saying this!" Leon exclaimed. "How could you go with Umbrella after everything they've done to Raccoon City!?"

"Because if I go with Mr. Hunk," I explained, "then Ada and Wesker will come after Umbrella to get me. Chris and Barry will no longer be their target."

"And Umbrella is better equipped to handle this new, mysterious organization," Mr. Hunk continued.

"What!? Who the hell is Wesker!?" Leon cried in confusion.

"I'm more involved with this than you can imagine," I admitted to Leon. "I'm doing this to protect you, Chris, Jill, Claire, Barry … everyone. If I can help to emphasize the conflict between Umbrella and this unknown organization Ada work's for, Umbrella will have their hands full. They won't be able to track the S.T.A.R.S. members down."

"This is ridiculous," Leon said. 

"This is my choice," I countered. 

"Let's go, Kenny," Mr. Hunk said, putting his hand on my shoulder. We both turned around and began heading in the opposite direction, leaving Leon behind. Mr. Hunk turned around and spoke to Leon, his final words to him before departing. "Be thankful you have someone who's brave enough and smart enough to put his life on the line for you. If I were in his shoes, I would've let the dogs come after you to save my own skin." Leon remained silent as we walked away. 

I glanced back at him, and saw his gaze of fury directed at me. He never stopped staring. He was so angry. Even as I lowered my eyes in guilt, and turned my head, trying to tell myself it was for the good of everyone else, I could feel that gaze of fire burning into the back of my head. He was labeling me a traitor. 


	14. Chapter 11: Tour of Rockfort

                I awoke in a fairly large room. The bed was stiff as a board, and the sheets somehow penetrated the yellow T-shirt that clung to my body with sweat, viciously scratching my skin. I sat up groggily, propping my body up from lying position with my fatigued arms. They burned with the pain of exercise. I'd been through a lot in the past few days mentally and especially physically. 

                The right side of the bed and the head hugged the wall, stuck in the corner of the room. The wall to my right sported a rather large window, looking out over some kind of prison facility. Daylight was shining through the window, assaulted my dark-accustomed eyes. I rubbed my eyes, sleepily and yawned. I could taste the foul morning breath and decided it was time to brush my teeth. But … where was the washroom around here. As a matter of fact, where the hell was I?

                I got out of bed and tried recalling yesterday's events. I remember being kidnapped by Ada, and then Leon and Mr. Hunk rescued me. We parted from Leon because … because I wanted to join Umbrella. That wasn't the case really, I just wanted to keep Umbrella from hurting Leon and the others. I knew the corrupt corporation was after them for something. There was a knock on the door, on the opposite end of the room. 

                "Come in," I called out nervously. The door swung open to reveal the figure of a tall blond man. He was effeminate looking with his hair slicked back, pink lips, rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes. He wore the uniform of a Buckingham Palace guard, minus the tacky black headwear. 

                "It's good to see you're finally awake," he said, with a girlish voice. I didn't reply. In fact, I was terrified. By sacrificing my own freedom, I hoped to have protected the people that helped me escape from Raccoon City. But whatever was going to happen to me was completely out of my control. The strange man continued speaking. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alfred Ashford," he said with a formal bow. "I am the descendant of the late Veronica Ashford, who helped discover one of the first viruses that helped to build the Umbrella Corporation." I was impressed. Within the first five minutes of my first day with Umbrella and already I was being introduced to the higher ups. 

                "That's … cool," I said, unsure of what else to say. "Are you management of this facility?"

                "I am," he replied politely. "And I am also quite honored to have you here at my base. Umbrella has been looking for you for quite some time. If it hadn't been for Mr. Hunk, we might not have found you at all."

                "Mr. Ashford," I said, wanting to cut right to the chase, "what is it Umbrella plans to do with me?"

                "I've heard about your experiences in Raccoon City," he replied. "You've conducted yourself successfully enough to escape the nightmare."

                "Well it wasn't all me …"

                "We believe that your abilities will be beneficial to our company."             

                "I don't exactly agree with Umbrella's policies …"

                "You will be paid generously for your services. How does two thousand American dollars a month sound to you?" I was about to try and negotiate my release with this guy – he seemed reasonable enough, but when I heard how much they were willing to pay me, I decided to put it off for a minute. 

                "What kind of services?"

                "The military kind," he responded simply. "You are at Umbrella's Rockfort Prison Establishment. Off course, you aren't a prisoner here, but a new recruit in our training facility."

                "But I'm not even old enough to be in the army!" I retaliated. 

                "Like I said," he continued, "you will be paid two thousand American dollars a month for your training, and your salary will increase two-fold with every promotion. Housing and food will be provided free of charge as a member of our military. And I will personally see to it that your every need will be taken care of."

                "I …" What could I say? This was too much information to absorb in such a short amount of time. Did I really want to join their cause, especially after what they did to Raccoon City? If I didn't, how would that affect my life, and the lives of Chris, Leon, Claire and everyone else? "What if I were to say no?" I asked. 

                "Should you choose to not co-operate," he explained, "you will simply be thrown into the prison just a short walk from here, and have the Shadow Technology extracted from your body against your will for our purposes. We have legally purchased you, Kenny. Whether you like it or not, you are property of Umbrella Incorporated. But we are giving you the opportunity to make your stay _extremely_ comfortable. The choice is yours."

                "Will I be contributing to any disasters like what happened to Raccoon City?" I asked. 

                "Raccoon City was an accident. It isn't often that Umbrella is in danger of being revealed to the government, but when there is a possibility, we take every possible measure to make sure that doesn't happen."

                "Every possible measure? You call unleashing the virus on the entire city a security measure?!"

                "I believe the spread of the virus was due to rats that infested the sewers. The hygiene level of that city is simply atrocious. But we won't have to worry about that happening at the Rockfort facility, and we will no longer have to worry about Raccoon City either."

                "Why not? If the virus is still running rampant …"

                "Raccoon City has been eliminated."

                I could feel the color drain from my face. The shock gripped at my heart and nearly stopped it from beating its way out of my chest. "…What do you mean … 'eliminated'?"

                "The city was nuked this morning, about an hour before you awoke." 

                No … that meant that Jill and Carlos, and any other remaining citizen of the city was … "You can't be serious."

                "I am dead serious. We have moles holding high positions in the American senate. They can be very convincing."

                "You MURDERERS!" I shouted. "How the hell can you …"

                "It was the government that made the final decision. After all, we can't have a contagious virus spewing from a doomed city, can we?" Alfred lost his calm composure and began speaking in an aggressive voice. "Now your tour of the Rockfort facility begins in one hour. I suggest you take that time to get yourself ready." He nodded at the table near the door. "I hear you're a smoker. Use those well." A full red packet of cigarettes lay open on the desktop, right beside an ancient looking typewriter.

                Alfred left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. The guy was a freak. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but the way he just lost his composure so quickly, and then switching back to Mr. Nice Guy with such ease just creeped me out. He was like a woman in more ways than one. There was his girly screechy voice, those eyelashes, and the mood swing. 

                I lay my head back down onto the soft white pillow and began contemplating my new situation. The people that I cared about were probably far away. Come to think of it, I had no idea where the Rockfort facility was in relation to Raccoon City. It couldn't have been far, because if it really did get nuked this morning, I would have been awoken by some kind of effect from the explosion. I was in a new setting – a military one. And I had no experience in the military whatsoever. How was I going to pull this off? Did they somehow expect this 'Shadow Technology' inside my body to kick in? Cause I sure as hell wasn't gonna be some kind of expert soldier. I mean, yeah I could shoot a gun and run like hell from monsters, but there was just no way I could actually be trained to fight them!

                I nearly jumped out of bed from the strange vibrating sensation in my pocket. It was the cell phone I picked up from Chris's hideout yesterday! He was trying to make contact with me! I quickly reached into my pocket and pulled out the little device, tapping the green button I could've only guessed as being the "answer" button. 

                "Hello?!" I called eagerly into the phone. 

                "Kenny, where the HELL are you!!?" the speaker asked on the other end. 

                "Chris! It's so good to hear from you!" I knew if Chris could reach through the phone line, he'd strangle me to death with his bare hands but I'd take that over my current situation. 

                "I thought I told you not to leave the house!" he bellowed. "I've been trying all night to contact you. You had me worried sick, especially after getting your note! Tell me where you are. I'm coming to get you."

                "I don't even know where I am," I replied. "I'm at a place called the Rockfort facility belonging to Umbrella."

                "Oh god …" he said, the anger abruptly subsiding from his voice, substituted by dread. "Umbrella has you. I didn't want to believe it. Why in the world would they come after you?"

                "Apparently, I'm valuable to them somehow."

                "I don't care if I don't know where you are. But I'm gonna hunt down those bastards and make them tell me where this Rockfort facility is …"

                "No, Chris you can't!!"

                "What the hell are you talking about? Why not?"

                "Because your immediate priority is Claire! And, it's dangerous over here. I'm in some kind of military training facility. They're probably got well-trained guards and soldiers here, not to mention weaponry and all sorts of fatal bullshit. I can't have you come here on my accord."

                "But if you're in danger …"

                "I'm not in danger. They're taking care of me over here."

                "After the mansion incident, I'm starting to question Umbrella's policies on 'taking care' of things."

                "They …" I began to lose my composure. I didn't want to tell Chris, but I had to give him a valid reason for staying wherever the hell he was. "They want to turn me into one of their agents." My claim was met with silence. "Are you there?" I called out after a few seconds ticked by.

                "You're shitting me."

                "No, I'm not. They want to make me one of their soldiers, and maybe a general when I'm fully trained."

                "I can't even begin to guess why," Chris said, "but I'm not going to have it."

                "I could be useful to your cause this way," I said, trying to convince him to let me stay. "I could take Umbrella out from the inside, especially once they make me a higher ranking officer." I was thinking too far ahead at that point, but the possibility was always there. "Just please let me do this. I don't want to endanger anyone else unnecessarily."

                "Kenny, I …"

                "Once you've taken out the company's higher ups, I'll come reunite with you guys. But until then, I have to distract them from you."

                "That's really selfless of you, Kenny, but this is absurd. You're a fifteen year old kid! How do you plan on taking out Umbrella from the inside?"

                "It'll be a few years until they've gained my trust completely. But until then, you have to trust me! Keep doing what you have to do to take down the company, but you can rest assured I'll be doing what I can to help you from the inside."

                "Keep in touch with me," Chris said, finally deciding to let me have my way. "I don't want to lose contact with you, especially given the task you've assigned yourself. The cell is probably not gonna last forever, but I'll give you my email … "

                "Chris, one more thing."

                "What?"

                "Is Raccoon City really … gone?"

                "Yes," he replied grimly. 

                "Oh no, Jill …"

                "Relax, Kenny, she's fine. Barry says he's found her."

                "That's good. When will you be reuniting with her?"

                "I don't know. I've left the hideout, just going by your note. Because if Umbrella now knows where we are situated …"

                "Where are you going now?"

                "I'm heading to Europe to look for Claire. But you just sit tight. And grab and pen and paper, I'm giving you my email. Do NOT tell anyone!!"

                                                                                *                *                *

                The tour of the military facility was generally uneventful. I mean it was interesting to see the cadets do all sorts of weird exercises, knowing I was going to join them soon. But the real fun part came when I got to tour the prison. I tour guide was a Latino man who went by the name of Rodrigo Juan Raval. He spoke with a deep voice, the pronunciation of his words hinting at a Spanish origin, besides his name and skin color of course. I wasn't really paying much attention, just kinda nodding my head with every pause or saying "Uh huh." I was a full time high school student. When it came to pretending I was interested in random bullshit, I was an expert. 

                By now we had reached an open pen, surrounding with concrete walls and thorn wiring lining the tops. There were prisoners, dressed completely in white clothes digging in the pen. 

                "And this is where the prisoners come to work," Rodrigo explained, extending his hand to the surrounding area.

                "Uh huh," I said blankly, half ignoring him. 

                "Oh shit," he said, grabbing his walkie-talkie hanging from his belt. "One of the guards needs access to the compound but he's forgotten his ID card. Hang on, I'll be right back." With that, he disappeared through the same door we came in through – the one with the strange indentation of an eagle on the lock. I looked around the pen at all the prisoners toiling at the dirt, wiping the sweat off their faces from the intense heat of the late morning sun. The soft clang of shovels hitting dirt could be heard all around me. 

                One of the prisoners, a younger fellow, perhaps a year or two older than me with short brown hair shot an evil glance at me. I was used to taking slack from people for no reason. Just to emphasize the point that I wasn't some prisoner, that I had rights and freedoms, I pulled out the cigarette pack from my pocket and lit one up right in front of me while he stared angrily. 

                "You got a lot of guts to come here and act like you own the place," he said. "You have no idea what some people will do for one of those around here." He pointed at the cancer stick I held between my fingers. 

                "Is that so, Mister …" I glanced at his identification tag, "MFD2872?"

                "The name is Steve Burnside, you little shit," he said, dropping his shovel.

                "You might wanna take off your dog leash before coming over here to kick my ass," I shot back. The comment obviously got the better of him when his face turned beet red with anger as he yanked at his chains, his efforts to break them utterly futile. "What's the matter?" I taunted. "Too attached to your bum buddies?" That was the straw that snapped the camel's back. He lunged for me, taking some of his fellow prisoners down with him. The door to the pen opened and Rodrigo game running through surrounded by some of his fellow guards. 

                "Settle down!" he ordered gruffly, taking down the enraged prisoner. The struggled for a few moments, but the whole time, his intense glare of hatred never meandered from my own. I just stood there smiling at him, the cigarette smoking from between my smirking lips. From that moment on, I knew that my experience at the facility was going to be very eventful … and fun. 


	15. Interlude: Promotion

                The past three months have gone by painfully slowly. On my first day at Umbrella's Rockfort military facility, I was very optimistic. But how that optimism slowly drained as the days dragged on, gradually becoming weeks, and the weeks slowly turning into months. Every morning, it was the same thing. Me and the other cadets – all of who had at least three more years of life experience than me – would wake up at five in the morning, right at the crack of dawn. We were expected to make our beds before we did anything. And the inspectors were really anal about it. There were to be no creases on the sheets whatsoever after the beds were made. We were expected to take good care of our equipment. Boots had to be cleaned every night, because the inspectors would come in the morning and look for the reflections of their ugly faces in them. 

I thought it would be cool to own my own semi-automatic rifle – and I did. But we were expected to take care of them like they were our lives.  I mean, of course everyone should take good care of their belongings, but the standards these psycho army guys had were nearly impossible to meet. They wanted the rifles in as good condition as when they were new – I thought they were new. Any failure to meet the inspector's standards meant a variety of disciplinary punishment, ranging from cleaning toilets, to pushups in outside rain or shine. 

                One thing that I walked out with from that experience though, and I'm glad that I did, is the fact that they teach you how to live like a man. They teach you to be independent, and to build respect for yourself. They tear you down at first and rebuild you according to their standards – and as shitty as the process was, I can honestly say I'm somewhat a better person now than when I first went in. 

                Fortunately, we were given regular access to computers at the facility, so Chris wouldn't be driven insane wondering what was happening to me. I gave him the lowdown on everything that was going on from my perspective. He was never really interested though. I mean I was training to be a soldier for Umbrella, not masterminding their major plots, so I couldn't exactly provide him with the information he needed to bring them down. 

                About halfway through my training, I began to embrace the military life on the island. After all, this was my new reality. I say halfway now but back then, I had no idea how long my training would last. But even after the tough adjustments, my new reality would also come crashing down before my eyes shortly thereafter, just like my life as a law student back in Raccoon City. 

                After the third month had passed, Alfred Ashford approached me. It was at night, and the guys and I had just finished showering and were planning on turning in for the night. I walked down the hallway of the facility holding my uniform close to my body. My sleepwear consisted of a white T-shirt and navy blue boxer shorts. The rain chilled the air outside, and the cold had no problem spreading indoors with the cement that the building was made of, despite the heating system – which by the way, is as complete joke. 

                Even after all the time I spent at the facility, Mr. Ashford never failed to creep me out. I never got used to the guy – he was just weird. And it wasn't exactly one aspect that contributed to his overall disturbing aura. It was the way he giggled like a girl and a maniac at the same time. He always looked so perfect with his hair combed in the same fashion at all times of the day. And when we would be training during the afternoon, sometimes he'd walk by and look at us with his face sometimes beaming with pride and other times he'd grinning sadistically. He was never afraid to make eye contact with the cadets, not caring that his eerie gaze could very easily cause us to lose our concentration. 

                Anyway, it was a cold and stormy night when he approached me. The hallways were dimly lit, seeing as how we should have all been in bed anyway. I turned around the corner and nearly jumped out of my skin, seeing him standing there staring directly into my eyes like he had been expecting me the whole time. He still wore that British admiral suit or whatever kind of uniform it was. I swear the guy never changed out of it. 

                "Kenneth," he whispered in a low voice, "I must speak with you."

                "Yes, sir," I said, trying in vain to get my heart to slow down from the shock I just received. 

                "Forget the formalities, cadet," Alfred ordered, "I want to talk to the real Kenny."

                "What does this regard?" I asked, finding it a little difficult to speak with him casually.

                "Your promotion…"

                I almost bit my tongue off. "Promotion? But sir, I'm still training and …"

                "You may not be aware of it, but your athletic ability speaks for itself. You are a lot smaller than your fellow cadets, yet you outperform them in almost every exercise, every drill. Your hand-eye coordination, your reflexes, endurance, strength … everything far surpasses that of the others in your platoon. I believe you are ready for employment, ready to get paid more for doing this."

                "This …" I struggled to find the right words. "This is a little too quick for me."

                "You weren't expecting such a hasty promotion? Given the Shadow Technology inside your body, it is no surprise that you are able to do so well as a soldier. After all, the technology is designed to heighten the athletic prowess of a person, turning them into a perfect soldier. You are Umbrella's first specimen of such a technology, and we are certainly grateful. That's why I'm very interested in hiring you as an Umbrella agent. Your first few assignments will consist of spy work, not really involving direct combat. That will help you exercise your endurance in the field."

                "You mean I won't get to fight anyone? I thought that's what Umbrella's agents did. I mean Ada, she …"

                "You will learn to fight properly in time. But we're focusing on one thing at a time. Please consider my offer, and let me know what you have decided in the afternoon tomorrow."

                                                                *                *                *

                I wish Alfred hadn't talked to me that night. I lay in bed staring wide-eyed at the ceiling with butterflies in my stomach. His offer was a big deal – I had never been so successful in anything in my life before. The thought of being a fifteen-year-old Umbrella agent was certainly appealing. And to think just a few months ago, I thought Umbrella was just some innocent pharmaceutical company. A part of my conscience tugged at the back of my mind. I knew this job was going to be fun, but at the same time I knew I'd be contributing to the evils that the company was responsible for. 

                But I wasn't a bad guy … right? The only reason I was with Umbrella was to distract Wesker and Ada from Chris and the others. It was me they were after. Besides, I was planning on helping Chris bring down Umbrella from the inside. No matter how many times I tried to justify it, something just didn't feel right. Would I be responsible for the next Raccoon City style disaster? It was unlikely but the potential was there. And that's why for the first few hours since I'd turned the lights off to my room which I shared with three other cadets, I lay wide awake in bed, unable to fall asleep no matter how desperately I tried. I closed my eyes but my mind was still running a mile a minute. 

                I reopened them after what I could've sworn was five minutes later. But my body told me otherwise. My heavy eyelids, the pasties in my mouth told me that I had been sleeping for a good couple of hours. But if I really was sleeping, then why had I waken up so abruptly for no reason. 

                There was someone shouting outside. It was odd, especially at this time of the night when all the trainees were supposed to be in bed. I rose out of bed, feeling my body protest by shooting aching pains throughout my limbs. But my curiosity had gotten the better of me and I really wanted to find out what was going on. I sauntered over to the windows, shuddering as the cold tiles made contact with my warm feet. 

                I peered through the window and just stared through the rain-splattered glass. For the first time in the three months I spent there, I had finally seen the REAL soldiers in actions. Though it was absolutely pouring outside, the men worked professionally, not faltering even once as they marched. They were there hauling in some poor prisoner. There was only one prisoner, but I couldn't figure out why they needed so many men to bring her in. 

                Yeah, the captive was a girl. She was lightly built wearing tight jeans that hugged the curve of her legs, and a red short sleeved biker jacket over a black shirt underneath. I couldn't tell if her tight jeans actually made her look like a slut, or if it was the fact that wet jeans cling to your skin like no tomorrow. Her chestnut hair was tied into a ponytail that stuck out from the back of her head, bouncing along as she moved. The girl was unconscious and was being carried on one shoulder of a burly soldier. I saw Rodrigo walking a few paces behind, his eyes never shifting from the face of the girl. They obviously didn't want to take any chances with this girl, but she looked so sweet and nice …

                "Don't take your eyes off her until she's safely behind bars," Rodrigo ordered, his voice powerful enough for me to hear through the closed window. "She's responsible for the death of over ten Umbrella soldiers in our Paris location. She shot a compressed gas canister and it exploded, igniting all the surrounding canisters causing a massive explosion. She knows what she's doing and that makes her dangerous." All of a sudden, I didn't feel so good about becoming an Umbrella agent. If the soldiers were killed so quickly by their enemies without a simple thought about their lives, I wondered what kind of torment a higher ranking agent would go through before being executed. 

                The soldier carrying her snickered. "The Redfield family sure knows how to produce pests." The Redfield family? My heart skipped a beat. That couldn't be … it just couldn't be … My knees were beginning to turn into jelly. I was starting to find it hard to breathe. Would they make me kill her as a form of training? Was she REALLY on this island as a captive of Umbrella? 

                Rodrigo's comment confirmed it for me, as he smiled sadistically telling the soldier, "Be sure to make the honored prisoner comfortable in her cell. She'll be there for awhile. Welcome to Rockfort, Claire Redfield."


	16. Chapter 12: Code Veronica

**Lost Survivor: **I wish I could say that half these ideas that you think are brilliant were actually mine. But the truth is, I'm sticking quite closely to the events of the actual Resident Evil series. Through this story, I am only showing where my original character, Kenny, is seeing things from and what he goes through. But the thought of publishing my own book does sound enticing though!

**Blizzard Dragon: **Thanks for your compliments! I hope you will continue to enjoy this story!

**Enzik: **For someone who hasn't played Code Veronica, you're definitely on the right track. The last chapter and this one are supposed to take place the night the Rockfort facility comes under attack by "mysterious" forces, at the very beginning of Code Veronica. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

                Standing there, staring out the window most likely with a dumbfounded with shock, I could feel the adrenaline pump through my entire body in those few seconds. My mouth went dry as cold sweat broke out all over my back and forehead. I couldn't quite wrap my mind around the concept – that Claire was actually on this island. What were they doing to her? Why was she knocked unconscious like that? Was she hurt? Perhaps if I didn't tell her the whereabouts of her brother, all of this could have been avoided. I had so many questions, but no answers.

                There was only one way of getting the answers I was seeking. It was a simple conclusion to come to, really, but at the time, the pure shock that completely took over my body hindered any movements my brain commanded my body to perform. I finally mustered enough courage to head over to my room door and make my way out into the hallway. 

                The rain was still pouring outside – I could hear it splashing relentlessly on the roof of the compound. I wasn't worrying about getting wet, or about the consequences that would I would incur if the Rockfort guards caught me out of the dorm after curfew. But Claire … I actually had somewhat of a personal connection to this girl – her life was in danger, and worst of all, it was probably because of me! I felt entitled to at least be able to see her. 

                I made my way down the hallway, cautiously listening for the footsteps of approaching guards. I was sure to keep my form bathed in the shadows, pausing occasionally whenever I would hear something. But fortunately, there were no guards around the dorms that night. Perhaps they were too occupied with the new prisoner? But if they were with her, there was no way in hell I would be able to get through to see Claire. 

                I entered the foyer of the building and grasped the cold handles of the main doors that led outside. Clenching my teeth I pulled on the handles, slowly increasing pressure until the massive door swung open a tiny crack. My efforts to not make a noise while exiting the complex proved to be futile however, as the splattering of the rain outside echoed through the empty halls. I decided to screw the silent approach and just jet out of there with a bang. I opened the doors until the crack widened enough for me to slip through. I instantly felt the force of large, heavy raindrops hitting my head, threatening to snap my neck upon colliding with my skull. 

                Closing the door, I marched through the dirt composing much of the courtyard that had now turned into a thick mud. And that was when I realized for the first time that I was still in my pajamas without any shoes on. I was tempted to go back and get some shoes, but only for a moment. It would be pointless. I had already waxed my boots for the night and there was no way in hell I was going to get them dirty walking out here and have to wax them all over again. Besides, my feet were already caked in mud and wearing the boots would not only get the outside layered with mud, but the insides as well. 

                I continued trudging through the mud until I came to the fence and pushed the gate open. It wasn't any fancy kind of perimeter fence - just a rusty chain linked one. It squeaked as I forced it open against the rust and the mud on the ground, but I figured there weren't any guards at this section of the compound. They were more than likely tending to the new prisoner … the girl I wanted to see. 

                The dirt path outside, also consisting of mud, eventually led to a long flight of stairs, leading far down the natural cliffs, onto a long wooden bridge that provided a walkway across a canyon that stretched farther down than I could see, and into the prison compound. True it was raining that night, and the entire island was enveloped in a thick layer of fog, but even on the brightest of days, I could barely make out the river running at the bottom of the canyon. The Rockfort facility was built atop high cliffs that made up the entire terrain of the island. 

                I started walking down the stairs, holding onto the railing with a death grip, afraid of slipping and tumbling over the railings to a very messy death. And I must admit, it was pretty difficult to watch where I was stepping in the dark while looking around to make sure there were no guards anywhere. Then again, if there were, I was stuck halfway through a long ass flight of stairs with nowhere to hide. So I just decided to concentrate on my footwork instead. 

                The bridge was getting closer, beckoning at the bottom. It took me a good ten to fifteen minutes to clear the entire flight of stairs. I was never a fan of heights – ask anyone I've met in my entire life. The rain was trying in vain to chill me to the bone, but the adrenaline that coursed through my veins kept my heart pumping fast, thus keeping me warm. By the time I reached the bottom platform where the bridge began, I almost knelt on the ground and began kissing it, but the thought of mud on my face was enough of a turnoff. I proceeded across the bridge staying clear from both of the edges. 

                Then my heart threatened to stop beating. At the opposite end of the bridge in front of a pair of tightly shut metal doors, dressed in a white T-shirt with his arms folded across his broad chest, Rodrigo stood staring me straight in the eye. He said something, but he was too far away for me to comprehend. All I could hear was the sound of his gruff voice echoing off the canyon walls. 

                "What?!" I called, breaking from a walk into a slow jog.

                "I said get over here!" he ordered sternly, sounding quite pissed off. Suddenly I wanted to turn around and run back into the dormitory. Even the stairs looked very enticing at this point. But doing so would've pissed him off and Rodrigo was strict enough to physically hit the cadets to punish them – especially if they were little prepubescent teens like me. And I didn't take all this time and effort to stay clear of the edges of the bridge and to be careful on the stairs above the canyon, only to be thrown over the edge by him. 

                "Yes sir," I said nervously, slowing down from my jog at the same time. As I neared, he never broke eye contact with me, not even once. I could feel him stare right through me like I was nothing, like I was just a mere fly in his way and should've been grateful he hadn't crushed me like the bug I was. 

                "What are you doing out of the dormitory?" he demanded. 

                "I couldn't sleep, especially after hearing the commotion," I replied sheepishly. "I just wanted to come by and check out what was going on."

                The cocked eyebrow he gave me told me he wasn't buying my story. The next thing I felt, after the intense fear, was a sharp slap across my right cheek. The world just turned back before my eyes, only for the darkness to be replaced by spots and stars as my vision returned slowly. Despite my best efforts, hot tears seeped their way out of the corners of my eyes and mixed with the rain that soaked my skin.

                "You know what happens to cadets who disobey the rules."

                "Yes, sir."

                "And you also know the punishment wouldn't be worth satisfying your curiosity. Normally I'd send you to the disciplinary hall, but I really don't think you're this stupid to risk your own freedom. I want the truth, no more lies. Otherwise …" he leaned in closer and stared into my eyes, his face only inches from my own to the point that I could see the pores on his face. "I am this close to sending you there …" He emphasized his point by pinching his index finger and thumb against each other, holding the hand formation between our noses. 

                "I …" I didn't want to say it, afraid at what he would do if he found out I was connected to Claire. I thought about lying again, but decided that he was exceptionally good at recognizing lies. And God knows what he would do if he caught me lying again, so I thought the truth would be the best policy at this point. "I want to see the new prisoner."

                "What kind of connection do you have with her?"

                "It's nothing big really …"

                "Obviously for you to defy the rules set by the facility for the cadets, meeting her is worth breaking the rules, the same rules to which you have been bound to by agreeing to serve Umbrella. Tell me the truth, and don't make me tell you again."

                "I know her."

                "How?"

                "She survived Raccoon City, just like I did. And I want to know if she's alright, and what she's doing here."

                "Claire Redfield was caught awhile ago while infiltrating an Umbrella establishment in France searching for her brother. There is no doubt that she is on her brother's side, and he is a pest to the organization that needs to be disposed of. And that just makes her another one to deal with."

                I gulped a thick lump in my throat. For the first time in my life at the Rockfort facility, I began seriously rethinking my original intentions for joining Umbrella. What if Rodrigo ever found out that I was allied with Chris too? Well it was a no-brainer. He'd have me killed, or do it himself. 

                He looked at me strangely. My heart sank into my stomach. What kind of fucked up faces was I making? It seemed like the guy could read my mind! "Is there something you're not telling me, Kenny?" I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I was at a dead end. I couldn't think of anything to say that would save my life now … literally. 

                Thankfully, a high-pitched whistle filled the air, and bought me a few more seconds of life by capturing Rodrigo's attention – and mine. I glanced up to see a missile soaring incredibly fast overhead, aimed right at the Ashford residence sitting at the highest point of the island. Rodrigo and I stood rooted to the spot, staring in shock and awe as the missile connected with the main tower in the center of the mansion, causing a bright orange ball of fire. 

                The missile produced a streak of smoke across the sky. Within seconds of the first one impacting the Ashford residence, a whole swarm followed in its wake, bombarding the building. Some of the explosive shells diverted from the main group, changing their courses in what seemed like a very random pattern, smashing into various areas of the island. Explosions of various volume and intensity could be heard in rapid succession from all over the island. But it never really struck me just how dead we were until one flew just a few meters over our heads and collided with the prison compound. The resulting explosion shook the very ground we were standing on, and Rodrigo and I lost our balance, nearly falling ass first into the mud. 

                "Shit, DUCK!!" he yelled, throwing his body over mind. My entire torso hit the ground violently. My back burned for just a moment and a sudden gust of wind swallowed our bodies, as yet another missile flew by us, narrowly missing our heads even as we lay pressed to the ground. This one broke through the bridge, right in front of where a jeep was situated. I thank my lucky stars today that the jeep wasn't hit. If it were, the explosions from the gas tank would've taken the whole bridge down, and us along with it. 

                But the rapid succession of explosions did not stop, as Rodrigo and I lay belly down in the mud, with our hands protectively over our heads. "What the fuck is going on?!" I cried over the noise. 

                "We're being attacked!" he replied, his voice filled with dread. 


	17. Chapter 13: The Gems of Rockfort

                By the time I had come to, the rain had slowed down to a mere drizzle, not pouring down in torrents like earlier. I was lying on my stomach, the left side of my face buried in mud. I could taste a little bit in my mouth, probably from it flowing into my face while I was unconscious this whole time. MY pajamas had been completely soaked through, clinging to my skin, chilling me to the bone. I sat up, closing my eyes tightly to try and curb the pounding headache that threatened to beat its way out of my head.

                The far end of the bridge that I'd come from had now been blow up by one of the missiles that had just barely missed me. A small walkway alongside the bridge connected it to the other end, so at least I knew it was possible to get back if I ever needed to. I looked in the opposite direction, where Rodrigo was before I blacked out. But he was nowhere to be seen. 

                Who ordered that mysterious attack on the island? It had to be someone with a real grudge against

Umbrella, but Chris and the others knew I was on the island. They wouldn't deliberately try to kill me, would they? Probably not, unless Leon told Chris I was a traitor … but Chris and I had been in touch this whole time. He was well aware of my intentions. 

                My thoughts were interrupted by a distant moan, low and gurgling. The moan was then followed by the sound of shuffling feet, rubbing against the dirt ground. For a split second, I was filled with horror, but only a second. It had been three months, and I had come very far, but those undead cries from Raccoon City would never leave me. Those were the cries of zombies. But my fear subsided as soon as I took my training into consideration. I could kick the ass of someone twice my weight. Zombies should prove to be easier. But remembering their sick, peeling faces, spouting puss everywhere, my stomach began to turn. And, although they were in fact the undead with all sorts of skin and muscle peeling from their bodies, they were somehow extremely strong. Now I was wondering whether to feel confident or petrified. The truth was I didn't want Raccoon City to happen all over again.

                Beyond the gate where Rodrigo once stood before the attack occurred, I could here the familiar sound of gunfire and it sounded terrifyingly close. I approached the door slowly tiptoeing across the wooden bridge to make sure my weight didn't produce any creaking that could be too loud. Grabbing the cold wet handles, I gave the door a little tug, but it didn't budge. Then I remembered – the door could only be unlocked from the other side by inserting a metallic eagle plate into a special hollow carved out in the lock. I honestly can't tell you now why I wanted to jump right into the middle of a gunfight at the time. My mind was probably still racing with thoughts of Claire getting hurt. I just wanted so desperately to reunite with her – with anybody, actually – anybody who didn't spend their entire life on this military island.

                But I couldn't get the door open. Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I stepped back a little to get a good look at the door. There were barbwires lining the top of the frame and the connecting walls. Fortunately, the flying missiles had broken a few holes in the barrier, one above the door just big enough for my small framed body to slide through relatively unharmed. But the trick was getting up there.

                After gaining some distance between myself and the door, I ran full speed towards it, launching my body up with one leg, using the other foot to propel myself upward further on the handles. When I saw the top of the frame come within reach, I shot my hands up, clinging to the edge of the frame, just dangling there for a few short seconds. I was pretty high off the ground. The training they put me through seriously helped my athletic ability, but it did nothing to curb my fear of heights. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pulled myself up with a little difficulty while I simultaneously tried avoiding getting too scratched up by the wire.

                The gunfire had stopped by now and the scene beyond the gate was strangely quiet. The only sound resonating was that of falling raindrops and running water. The rain had started up again. I dropped myself down onto the other side of the door and caught sight of multiple bodies in various stages of decay draped all over the mud.

                "Zombies," I said to myself without even realizing it. But there was no doubt in my mind. The Rockfort facility belonged to Umbrella. And what Umbrella facility didn't harbor a healthy amount of the zombie virus? This company was getting pretty damn predictable.

                Suddenly, I heard the click of a gun come from behind me. I spun around and instantly raised my hands into the air. Then I saw him. It was that prisoner that I nearly got into a scrap with when I first arrived on the island, his brown hair in a tangle mess atop of his head. His face and arms were caked with mud, mixing with sweat and blood. The only thing different about him now was the fact that there were no chains to keep him from attacking me – and that he had a gun. I hoped and prayed that he didn't recognize my face.

                "You're not a zombie," he said, sounding a little surprised.

                "No shit," I replied. "What was all that gunfire about?"

                "Gunfire?" he exclaimed. "Forget that! Why the hell were all missiles fired at the facility?"

                "You'd be the last one to complain. You're out of the prison."

                "I was just wondering."

                "Listen," I said, getting down to business, "I'm with the Umbrella military forces and you're a prisoner. I know we're not supposed to get along, but this looks like a different situation to me. We've gotta find a way off this zombie infested island and we can only do that if we stick together …"

                "I'm not relying on anyone to get me out of here," he interrupted. "You can do whatever you want to, but I can't afford to have you slow me down."

                "Do you have any idea what kind of training I've gone through?" I said, getting defensive. "I have you know that I've survived another similar disaster in Raccoon …"

                "I don't know, and I don't care," he interrupted a second time.

                "Fine then," I replied, expertly snatching the gun from him single-handedly. "If I'm gonna be a burden to you then I might as well start now."

                "Hey!" he shouted in protest. "That's my magnum you've got!"

                "You want it back?" I taunted, dangling the firearm just a few inches in front of his face. "First I want your name."

                "What for?!" He tried snatching it back, but I pulled it away just in time.

                "So when I get off this island by myself, I know whose sorry ass to send help for."

                He grumbled, mumbling something under his breath. "Steve Burnside."

                "Kenneth Feng," I said, extending my hand. He ignored it. "Alright." I took my hand back. "I see if you're so reluctant to get acquainted, I'll best be on my way." I headed for the door built into the wall on the left from where I stood. I half expected him to come after me. There was no way he could be stupid enough to actually mean what he was saying. Was he even aware of what kind of monsters could be lurking around here? The zombie virus produced more than just zombies. Then again, I decided that if was gonna be this arrogant, then he probably deserved to die.

                I entered another section of the prison compound where a large brick building stood. I wasn't quite familiar with the prison layout, but I was pretty sure this was where all the inmates ate. Back when I first visited this section of the compound, the stench of disgusting cafeteria food wafted through the air, enhanced by the sunny afternoon heat. But now, it was the heat of the fires that burned close by, brought to life by the attacks that carried the sickeningly sweet odor of rotting flesh. But I didn't need that to be well aware of the fact that there were zombies lurking about, although I hadn't seen any up to this point.

                "Good to see you here, Kenny," a dark sinister voice called from the shadows, completely catching me off guard.

                "Who's there?" I asked, jumping out of skin. I heard footsteps behind me. With developed reflexes, I spun around to face the intruder, quickly raising both fists in case he tried to attack. As the dark form stepped into the light, I could make out that this individual was a tall one. His entire body was covered in black clothes, but in this darkness, it was difficult to tell what he was wearing. The only thing I could make out from the reflection of the fires shining off its smooth surface was the pair of sunglasses on his face. "Wesker …" was all that could escape from my mouth. "What are you doing here?"

                "I must commend you for your cleverness," he said calmly. "You knew what I was after – the Shadow Technology – and you decided to hide by allying yourself with Umbrella, the company to which you belong. I had almost given up all hope of finding you."

                "And now you have," I replied, "but at what cost? What have you done to this entire island?!"

                "Umbrella's done worse," he snapped. "But don't get too arrogant. I didn't come here for you. I came for Alexia Ashford. You're just a bonus prize."

                "Who is Alexia Ashford?"

                "I'm sure you've already become acquainted with her sexually repressed twin brother, Alfred." I nodded. Apparently, Alfred's reputation had preceded him, far beyond the shores of this island. "Now that I've found you, Kenny," he said, reaching out with inhuman speed, "you're coming with me." To say that I was surprised would've been an understatement. Wesker had me by the arm with a single hand, and yet he was nearly crushing the bone with an extremely powerful grip. The pain was so intense, it was paralyzing, sucking all the energy out of me that I couldn't even lift a finger to resist.

                "L … let … me …" I couldn't say much else.

                "Let you go?" he Wesker taunted. "Absolutely!" He flung me against the wall of the compound and my body struck face first. I was able to cushion the impact by placing my hands against the wall as I collided, but it did little good to lessen the pain. I removed my face from the wall, finding the cement a little cracked with a large splatter of blood on it. That was when I felt the thick fluid gush out of my nose, heating up the lower half of my face with its warmth.

                "I've gotta get to Claire …" I said to myself, stumbling away from Wesker. But he dashed towards me, standing between me and the exit.

                "Surely you don't mean Claire Redfield," he said, looking at me just passed the rim of his glasses.

                "Shit," I cursed silently to myself. I opened my big mouth again, and consequently put Claire's life in danger for the second time.

                "This island sure has its gems to collect."

The last thing I saw was Wesker's gloved fist coming straight for my face. Before my consciousness slipped into a temporary black oblivion, I can recall myself saying, "Please be safe, Claire."


	18. Chapter 14: Call for Help

I remember feeling very cold. Given the events of the past few months, I was getting used to being knocked unconscious and right now, I could tell that this was one of those times. The blackness of unconsciousness was very comforting … hold on a second. If I was actually awake enough to realize I was unconscious then … I couldn't have been. Oh … I was sleeping. The last three months of training had left me more sleep deprived than I had thought. Nonetheless, it was a pretty good feeling, except for the fact that I was freezing my ass off.

I opened by eyes expecting to see light, but the room I lay it was pretty dim, with only a table lamp to give the entire place a gentle, warming glow. I felt the white shirt on my chest. They were soaked right through. I looked down at my boxers and they were wet too. No, I didn't piss myself.

As I took in my surroundings, I couldn't help but notice how lavish this place was. It looked like the office of some bigwig in a company. Then I noticed I was sitting upright in a large leather swivel chair that practically engulfed my entire body. In front of my was a fine lacquered oak work table with a typewriter on the right, and a rather large looking trunk just beside me on the floor to my left.

"Thank goodness you're awake," someone said. I nearly jumped out of my skin in surprise, not expecting anyone to be there.

"Admiral Ashford," I called in surprise. He was standing just beyond the desk staring at me intently, the crystal blue color of his eyes making his glare all the more intimidating. How long had he been standing there staring at me? And why hadn't I noticed him before? The guy still gave me the creeps. "What are you doing here?"

"I have to protect my island," he replied simply, shouldering a wicked looking sniper gun that was as along as I was tall.

"A…against what?" I knew it was a stupid question since the island was probably teeming with zombies … and Captain Wesker. Perhaps I should mention Captain Wesker to Alfred Ashford. Wesker used to work for Umbrella, and since he was the one responsible for the attack on Rockfort and Ashford was the head honcho of this place, perhaps I could gain a useful ally – creepy, but useful.

"There are creatures out there, Kenny," Alfred replied, suddenly emphasizing the drama in his voice. It was so corny I nearly broke out in laughter, but I knew better, especially in front of a crazed man like this. Who did he think he was? Some noble warrior sworn to protect this piece of shit island? "There are creatures far beyond what you could ever imagine."

I was tempted to roll my eyes. Wasn't I recruited into Umbrella's ranks because I survived Raccoon City?! Any fool at the Rockfort facility would know what I went through, and what to expect. Then again, Alfred Ashford was pretty damn self absorbed, perhaps a little too much so to recognize that blatant fact. "What are we going to do?" I asked, playing along with his ridiculous charade.

"Kill them," he said, loading his sniper rifle. He cocked his chin at the large trunk beside me. "I discovered some weapons in that trunk. Take your pick and remember to stock up on ammo."

I opened up the heavy lid, grunting with surprise at its weight. Alfred wasn't joking! There was a huge stockpile of weapons ranging from a serrated hunting knife, to a grenade launcher. I thought about taking the launcher, but it would definitely weigh me down by itself, let alone its ammo. Remembering the magnum I stole off the prisoner earlier, I patted my pockets and found it. The thing was so heavy I was practically pulling my pants down as I stood up to open the trunk. Extracting the gun from my pocket, I eyed it briefly, saying, "I think this should be enough for me. Any magnum rounds in this trunk?"

"I was hoping to find one," Alfred said, "that's why I picked up as much ammunition I could find. But you can keep this." He laid a shiny box of bullets on the desk, about a foot long and half as wide. "They should be compatible with your weapon."

"Thanks," I said, opening up the roulette, placing the rounds in.

There was a sudden bang of a door, like someone had just entered a room. Not this one, thankfully. It surprised Alfred and I, both of us looking to the door, out combative senses on full alert.

"Someone's in the hall," he whispered.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"You're in my office, in the mansion located right beside the military training facility." I suddenly felt a little honored to be in this room. This was the Ashford mansion, not to be confused with their mysterious palace at the highest point on the island. Nobody except the highest officials on the island and special guests were allowed to enter its halls. "I'm going to check it out and I want you to stay here. Shoot anyone that tries to enter this room."

"Yes, sir," I said, gripping the magnum with both hands. There was a fine redwood door just next to the desk that Alfred used to exit the room, leaving my behind clutching perhaps the deadliest handgun man ever made.

He was sure to close the door quietly and the room was enveloped in a deathly silence too quickly. I heard his footsteps outside the door, heavy at first, gradually fading away as he got farther from the door. I don't like to admit it now, I but was sincerely hoping he was okay. I felt safe with the wielder of that sniper gun on my side. If Alfred got killed, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it off the island with just a magnum alone.

Back in Raccoon City, these strange creatures with no skin and exposed brains lurked the city streets. They were made of pure muscle from what I could tell, sheets of the stuff covering whatever internal organs they had. A characteristic feature of these creatures was an impossibly long tongue that lashed viciously at victims, both unsuspecting and aware. A large razor claw about half as long as their own bodies were attached to each of their "hands" that they used to impale potential food with before devouring them. Thankfully, I only encountered one of such creatures when I was in a police car with Billy at wheel. The thing was so intent on getting us that it used its claw to peel apart the roof of the vehicle with horrifying ease. Billy crashed the car into a lamppost or something, killing the thing. To think a car crash saved my life …

That's how fucked up things get when Umbrella has a disaster. And then I find out later that Raccoon City was so screwed they had to nuke the place completely. I shuddered when I began considering what might happen to this place. All I wanted was to get out of here. I made myself a promise at that moment, in the middle of that room, trapped on a virus infested island – I was going to drop all this bullshit. I was going to quit Umbrella and completely remove myself from everything. I'd sacrificed enough for that company, and Chris, along with the rest of the Umbrella resistance members. As much as I care about Claire, Leon, Chris, Jill and Barry, their cause just wasn't worth being in constant danger. They seemed to be taking their sweet time taking Umbrella out anyway! I know it sounds selfish now, but hey, you're not the one with a creepy boss who looks at you while you sleep as your only ally on an island with sick creatures that could eat you faster than you can shoot.

_Thump …_ My mind had wandered but the resounding echo pulled it back into reality. I still can't believe that this was my reality. Someone was approaching the door. The footsteps weren't as heavy as Alfred's … which meant it could've been someone else … like Wesker!! I suddenly jumped off the nice chair that I still had my ass planted in and crept around the door, waiting patiently for the new intruder to open it and take a bullet right between the eyes. I clutched the gun with such a death grip, I wonder how I wasn't able to pull the trigger. My heart pounded in my chest, and the butterflies in my stomach were flying around chaotically.

The door opened with a light click and I aimed my gun with expert timing, right at the intruder's forehead. That was when I also noticed the barrel of a handgun aimed at my own. It wasn't Wesker, thankfully, or I would've been dead by now. This survivor was a girl with light brown hair and these gentle hazel eyes, set in stone with an angry look.

"Claire!"

"Kenny?"

There was another click, one signaling the safety of both guns going back on. "You're alive!" I cried, wrapping my arms tightly around her waist, unexpectedly lifting her off the ground.

"Oh … Jesus …" she cried, biting her lower lip in pain. "You got strong …"

"Sorry," I said, setting back onto the ground. "I've been training for the past three months." I may have been a few inches shorter than her, but I guess I must've definitely improved strength wise.

"What are you doing at an Umbrella Facility?" she asked curiously.

"It's a long story," I replied, "but before I explain anything, I just want to tell you how sorry I am."

She furrowed her brows, giving me a confused look. "I don't understand."

"I told you that Chris was in Paris, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"I was misinformed. Turns out the day I told you, after we escaped Raccoon City, he hadn't left yet. I sent you to Umbrella headquarters without a goal …"

"It doesn't matter now, Kenny," she said, rubbing her hand on my shoulder. "What matters to me is that he's all right. But I'd also like to know what you're doing on Umbrella property."

I sighed, predicting the look on her face, but I didn't want to hide this from anyone anymore. "I'm on a covert mission," I said sheepishly.

Claire stifled a giggle. "I'm sorry," she said blinking. "You're on a _what_ mission?"

"I'm training as an Umbrella Agent to get the inside scoop on the company. It was convenient actually, because Umbrella wanted me for something called the Shadow Technology, which is something I have in me, apparently."

"Whatever they want, it can't be good if it's in their hands. What is this technology you're talking about?"

"I've been in the dark about it myself, but I'm thinking they're going to use it and combine it with their bioweapons or something. I really don't know, it's just a guess."

"But you're fifteen years old! Isn't it against the law to recruit someone under eighteen?"

"And you're suggesting to me that Umbrella plays by the rules?"

"Good point."

"Anyway, I've been relaying information to your brother since I started working here, and he's been hoping that something useful has come up. Sofar, nothing."

"I can't believe him," Claire said, putting her hands on her hips. "How could Chris let you do that? It's dangerous!"

"Yeah but I was the one who insisted. And frankly, when I broke the news to him, he was too damn far away to do anything about it."

"So you're in constant contact with him then."

"Yeah but the cell phone he gave me ran out of batteries awhile ago, so now we contact each other through email."

"He didn't even give me his email!"

"Chris was trying to keep his operations under wraps, even if it meant hiding the truth from you. Claire, you don't understand how badly he didn't want you involved in this mess."

"Too late now," Claire said. "Is there anything useful in this room?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well in Raccoon City," she explained, "the way out of the city was a series of secret tunnels leading from the police station, to the sewer, and to an underground Umbrella facility." I pointed to the trunk that I snooped through earlier, stocked full with ammunition. Shit, Alfred!

"Claire, on your way up here, did you happen to run into anybody?"

She snorted in response. "A rather interesting individual, yes."

"Blond hair, blue eyes?"  
She nodded.

"Girly voice?"

Another nod. "Who is that?" she asked.

"His name is Alfred Ashford," I replied. "He's the bigwig of this island."

Claire rolled her eyes. "For a company as paranoid of being discovered as Umbrella, I'm surprised they would appoint a nutcase to this training facility, especially after going through the trouble of building it on some remote island."

"What did he do to you?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Kill me."

"What?! You'd think he would be trying to round up all the survivors to help escape this viral hellhole!"

"Kenny, you know him better than me and I would never assume he'd do something as logical as that." Claire made her way over to the trunk and lifted the lid, grunting with the same amount of effort I did. She went down on one knee and dug her hands straight into the box, rummaging around inside for a bigger, badder weapon than the handgun she brought in, now snug on the fine rug that decorated the floor. "The guy aimed his laser guided hunting rifle at my head and tried to blow it off – he nearly succeeded too."

"You're kidding!" I said, eyes wide with surprise whereas Claire gave me the details nonchalantly. Her head emerged from the trunk and in her arms, she carried a wicked looking automatic crossbow, one that could shoot three barbed arrows at once.

"I'm not. But anyway, that freak is gone – to where, I don't know. But all that matters is that he isn't here … hey get a load of that …" Claire pointed beside the entrance door to where the room extended farther.

"What is it?" I went to join her by her side to get a good view at the hall. It didn't extend very much farther back, only by a couple of feet. But at the end was a wooden door with an elaborate gold plate on it. There was a pair of indents on the surface of the gold plate shaped like a certain kind of gun.

"The Lugers …" Claire whispered in realization.

"What?"

"I saw a pair of guns just now, in a mini-museum room downstairs. They were embedded in the wall in a similar fashion that these indentations indicate."

"Then let's go get them!" I cried, heading for the entrance door.

Claire put a hand up to stop me. "When I took them out of the wall, the little chamber they were contained in closed off and the room became superheated, like an oven almost. It's another one of those nasty traps Umbrella's set up in to protect themselves against internal thieves."

"AAAIEEE!!!" came a scream from somewhere deep inside the mansion. "Help me!!"

"That sounds like Steve!" Claire cried, bringing her hand to her mouth. "We have to help him!"

"Steve? That stupid prick of a prisoner?"

"How do you know him?"

"We got off on a bad foot. Let him die, I say," I joked. But Claire didn't seem to appreciate it, as indicated by her disapproving frown.

"It sounded like it came from downstairs," she said. "Let's go!"

The two of us dashed out the office with amazing speed, feeling the rush of air sweep our faces and hair. Despite the cooling effect it had on our bodies, the adrenaline pumping through our veins kept us on top of things, our reflexes sharp. We were greeted on the stair landing by a small group of zombies.

Claire prepared her crossbow but the thing was too big and bulky to operate smoothly. I instinctively pointed the magnum at the first creature's forehead and pulled the trigger. A small spray of blood a brains shot out like a little fountain from the back of the zombie's head as it crashed to the ground with a sickening, wet thud. I turned to my right to see Claire gawking at me, surprised by the fluidity of my actions.

I shrugged in response. "Training …"

"You weren't kidding."

A second zombie – this one was dressed in a gore-stained army camouflaged jacket that was ripped in several places – grabbed for Claire's ankles, who screamed in protest. There was a blood-stained pouch of the shirt bulging out at the abdominal area. Judging by the amount of blood, free flowing and crusted, and the number of flies surrounding the area, I could only guess that it was produced by a wound in that area, allowing rotting internal organs to spill through. It was amazing that even though their digestive systems had rot to hell, the virus was powerful enough to drive the primal desire for fresh meat. Deciding to conserve some ammunition, she kicked at the monster's head with one swift motion, severing the rotten skull from its body.

The final zombie lurched forward, releasing a disgusting concoction of acids from its stomach. I dodged just in time, but a few drops of the vile stuff had made contact with my skin, and it was beginning to burn. The acid ate mercilessly through the first few layers of skin as I hoped and prayed to anybody listening that it wasn't enough to burn a hole right through my arm. While praying, I aimed the magnum at the zombie's head again, pulling the trigger. Through the pain I was suffering, I felt some form of pleasure, watching its rotting, peeling face get blown into decaying chunks.

By the time we were finished with the zombies, blood had been splattered all over the walls and floor, some even down the stairs. The headless corpses of the zombies lay twitching on the ground, their blood deepening the color of the carpet.

"Steve!" Claire cried out, urging him to cry out again. But there was no response.

"Did the zombies get to him?" I asked, but bit my lip upon realizing that Claire may not have wanted to even consider the possibility. I thought that maybe she had a thing for this asshole of a prisoner, but I wasn't sure. After contemplating the thought for a second, I decided it would be better if I just tended to my wound I received from the puking zombie.

Claire ran to the back of the entrance hall, where there was a door. I ran to the west door and opened it up. Immediately, the stench of feces assaulted my senses. Knowing my recent luck, I had opened the door to a washroom. A quick glance around the room and I concluded, a little hastily, that Steve was not in there, and there was no way I was going in to look.

"Kenny!" Claire suddenly screamed from the adjacent hall.

"What?!" I called back.

"Help me!!" Steve's voice echoed through the hall. It sounded much weaker this time. But fortunately, since we were closer to the source, Claire was able to more accurately determine the direction from which it came. I ran out of the bathroom and joined her by the doorway of the north wall at the back of the entrance hall. She pointed down the passage to the large double doors at the end.

"Do you think …" I asked gravely.

She nodded silently. "I think he went for the Lugers. Let's go get him outta there!!"


	19. Interlude: Diary of Chris Redfield

_From the journal of Chris Redfield:_

November 27, 1998

                It's been almost two months since the Raccoon City disaster. I haven't been back to check it out myself, but by the way the media's got the story covered, I won't need to. Not that I could go even if I wanted to. On the morning of October 3rd, the government authorized a nuclear strike on the city, literally vaporizing anything within the city limits. At the time, Barry and I were at headquarters – its location is classified for our own safety against the Umbrella Corporation, who most likely had one of their spies working in the government system help to organize the missile strike to cover their tracks, and the police themselves. Our S.T.A.R.S. unit is officially defunct, but I have been working undercover to expose the Umbrella Corporation's plots by myself, completely keeping Barry and Jill in the dark– with little to no success thus far, might I add. So the city itself now lies in ruins, and the radiation emitting from that place would probably grow me an extra set of arms if I was lucky, but most likely turn me into a walking cancerous lump. Better than being a zombie, I'd say.

                Jill found out about what I'd been doing shortly before the virus outbreak in Raccoon. She said I'd been a little more edgy than usual since the first outbreak in the Arklay mountains. I tried my best to hide the stress I was experiencing, but nobody lies to Jill Valentine. Eventually I let Barry in on it too, and the both of us decided to travel Europe, where based on my notes, Umbrella's main headquarters are located. Before we left, we housed ourselves in a temporary base of operations that was previously mentioned when the missile strike against the city occurred. Jill was scheduled to join us. But just as she was leaving, the outbreak got worse. It seemed everyone and their dog in Raccoon City had been turned into the undead from the virus. I could only hope and pray that Jill was alright.

                But all that changed when Kenneth Feng came along. Of all people, that kid makes it out of that disaster zone alive. It gave me hope that if he had the skills to escape, most likely Jill, as a trained S.T.A.R.S. operative, could make it out without a scratch. Kenny was the high school volunteer at the Raccoon Precinct, working there as an office bitch for his work experience. If you ask me, that kid was bright, and a hard worker. Sometimes, we need that kind of a change of pace, especially amongst the S.T.A.R.S. members. Don't get me wrong, we have a natural talent, and are trained, to kick ass. But because we only get called in for special missions, there was a lot of time to slack around.

                I'm getting off topic here. I ran into Kenny while snooping around the hospital in a neighboring town to Raccoon. I had gotten some leads that the hospital was actually run by the Umbrella Corporation, but like everything that company does, it was difficult to prove. Kenny was in a frantic panic, covered in bruises and scratches – he was completely hysterical. I managed to tackle him to the ground and get him to calm down. He was muttering a lot of bullshit, particularly something about Albert Wesker being alive – who we all know is dead. That traitor died in the Arklay mountains, impaled by a tyrant – a bio-organic weapon engineered by the Umbrella Corporation.

                But Kenny was the bearer of good and bad news. Jill had made it out of Raccoon City alive. That was the good news. That bad news was that Claire was there. Claire. She's my sister. My baby sister had come into Raccoon looking for me, putting herself in danger all on my own accord – and I wasn't even in the stinking city to protect her! I should have been in contact with my family at the very least during my undercover investigation against Umbrella. And I almost paid for that mistake on September 30th, apparently when Claire first entered the doomed city.

                I almost wanted to strangle Kenny when I found out that he'd sent Claire to Paris, where Barry and I were headed for. The catch was though, we hadn't left yet! I swore that kid to secrecy when he accidentally stumbled on our plan and he had to leak it out, to my sister of all people! I suppose she wouldn't have run into had I kept in constant contact with her the whole time. God, I don't know if I'm even making sense anymore. This whole issue has been taxing on my personal and professional life.

                I took Kenny over to headquarters to keep him safe. He knew too much and I knew Umbrella would be on him just like they were after us. And the very next day, they got to him, kidnapped him from our hideout. Knowing that our secret base had been uncovered, Barry and I had to flee that shanty three story piece of shit house.

                Kenny used the cell phone I gave him to call me and let him know he was alright. But knowing Umbrella, I was unsure of how long he remained that way. My first instinct was to go after him and take him back from Umbrella HQ. But he told me not to. I don't know what he was thinking, or what possessed me to let Kenny stay with Umbrella, especially when he told me that they were training him to be an agent for the company. I suppose I gave in finally when he convinced me that it would be beneficial to our cause to have an operative working as a mole. But what kind of punishment would they put the kid through if they ever found out he was feeding information to us? But for the past two months, Kenny has been keeping in constant contact with me through email, giving me any bit of information he could squeeze out of the guards and from his officers. Despite his best efforts, nothing he told me gave me some real insight into what Umbrella was up to, although I knew if we ever decided to infiltrate that base, Kenny had already provided us with plenty of knowledge. Claire and Kenny's safety were my top priorities at that point. Claire was my baby sister, and Kenny was an innocent kid dragged into a mess that he was never meant to be involved in.

                And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. I just got word from Leon – a friend of Claire's who escaped with her from Raccoon City shortly before Jill did, that she had been kidnapped by Umbrella as well, while she was snooping around their Paris headquarters looking for me. I don't know how many times I'd kicked myself for not keeping in touch with her. She would have never gone if it weren't for me. Leon had received an email from Claire just a few hours ago, telling him the coordinates of her location. After a few hours of research split between Leon and I, we discovered to my horror that Claire was on the very island that Kenny was training on, Umbrella's Rockfort Facility. They were together. And even better, a mysterious aerial attack on the establishment had released the deadly T-Virus from the island's storage areas, the same virus that caused all the scientists in the Spencer Mansion in the Arklay mountains, and the poor citizens of Raccoon City to turn into mindless zombies.

                It seems that Claire hadn't been infected – at least not at the time she sent the email to Leon. On my side of things, though I've been keeping in regular contact with Kenny, I haven't heard from him today, which suggests that he's either been turned into a zombie, or many of the computers on the island had been destroyed, limited his internet access … or both. The cell phone I gave him must have long died out by now.

                I am no longer comfortable just sitting here, waiting for some bit of good news to pop up. Kenny and Claire are stranded on some deserted island in the middle of the ocean with zombies running rampant. I had full faith in both of them to survive just for awhile … long enough for me to get there in time. I've decided to go and do something about their situation myself – I'm so sick of feeling helpless. Umbrella's screwed around with enough people's lives and I don't want anymore of it. I'll go in there, get Claire and Kenny out, and launch a full out war against that corporation before they can take anyone else. I'm so sorry I got you all into this … please forgive me.

**_Author's Notes:_**_ I've got the next chapter typed out. I've actually had it ready to be posted for quite some time. But for some reason, my computer I shaving troubles reading the file, so I have to go back to my school computer and email the actual text to myself. So this chapter is just to give you guys something to chew on, the summary of the story established so far from the perspective of another character. _


	20. Chapter 15: Airport Warfare

**Flamestrike****:** I apologize for the lack of updates! I just didn't want to have to rewrite the last chapter so I wanted till the last possible moment. But I'm glad to hear you're still enjoying my work.

**Chris Redfield:** Okay, here's some more!

**E-Z-B:** I'm taking your advice … any everyone else's for that matter, and making Kenny kick a little more ass. We're quite far into the story already, and he's only just begun fighting. Keep in mind though, at the beginning of the story, he wasn't a fighter yet.

**Emma:** Heh heh … yeah, I play the RE games. I've got everyone that exists for the PS, the PS2 and the Gamecube, even the crappy Gun Survivor ones. Well I don't have Gun Survivor 2 cause it was only released in Japan and I heard it was bad anyway. I have a life outside of video games, I really do.

**Jano****:** Wow, so many people liking my story! I'm touched, I really am. The number of reviewers has definitely shot up from when I first started writing. Every review counts, guys!

**Lost Survivor:** No, I'm not so mean as to put Kenny on Alfred's side. Nobody, real or not, deserves that kind of treatment. Out of all the RE villains, nobody has creeped me out more than Alfred.

**Jojo10:** I appreciate your compliments! I've worked hard to make sure this story fits with the official RE storyline. The only tweaking I've done is with the in-game scenes and just thrown Kenny in, really. Some of what Kenny experiences on Rockfort during this chapter may not match what players experience in Code Veronica 100% because my memory of that game is pretty vague.

We dashed down the ornate hallway, with beautifully painted portraits of the Ashford family set in Victorian style frames posted in a neat line along both walls. Our rapid footsteps echoed off the checkered floor, our breaths hot against our cold skin. The heavy double oak doors at the end of the hall seemed like an eternity away. They beckoned and we just kept on running, the fact that Steve could die at any moment rooted into our minds … well, Claire's mind at least. I honestly couldn't care less if the jerk died. I tried to get him to escape the island with me, but he insisted on taking his own way out. And if this is where it got him, then he deserved no less.

But Claire's unselfishness made me aware of how my sense of logic and hers conflicted. She wasn't going to let him die, no matter how much he deserved it. Claire wasn't only pretty, but she was kind – even to those who didn't deserve her care. How could an angel like her be in a mess like this? Oh yeah … it was my fault. If I hadn't told her Chris was in Paris, she would've never been captured and brought to this isolated zombie infested island in the middle of nowhere.

Our bodies crashed through the heavy doors like they were made of paper. Claire was right – the room looked like some kind of miniature museum. In three corners of the room, glass cases were set into place, each one displaying detailed models of military vehicles from the various eras of war. A fisheye light was set above each piece, giving them an almost holy glow. The room was small but the amount of pure shit it contained was magnificent. There were collections of guns, uniforms … pretty much anything that had to do with the military – all displayed neatly. While I was busy gawking at the display pieces, wondering just how much their total value would total to, Claire was busy at the fourth corner of the room, where a piece of wall was. She banged on it hard with her fists.

"Steve! Can you here me?!" she bellowed.

I don't know why, but I expected the room to be soundproof. Anyway, it wasn't. Steve's muffled voice came from the other side of the wall.

"Get me out of here …" he said weakly.

"Put the Lugers back!" she advised urgently. "Please, Steve. You can't sacrifice your life for a pair of guns!"

My eye caught hold of a red blinking light just underneath the gun display. "Hold on, Claire, look at this," I said approaching the display. "What are these black squares underneath the guns? It says something about pairs …"

"Oh … doesn't seem too hard," Claire said, pressing the third and fifth squares. "We have to find two identical guns, and these look the same."

"Seems a little too easy for me," I said with a little disappointment.

"I've got it!" Claire slammed her palm down on the flashing red button and the wall slid out of place, revealing a secret room behind it, also adorned with more war memorabilia. The heat wave that came out from it was suffocating and I found myself fanning my face. Steve came stumbling through, drenched with sweat … and a pair of golden Lugers in his hand.

"I need those," Claire said to him, sticking out her hand. I rolled my eyes. Was she really expecting him to hand it over?

"Really?" Steve asked, holding the guns up, resting them on his shoulders. "Well if I give them do you, how do you expect me to defend myself against the zombies?"

"We don't," I mumbled under my breath. But that only earned me a hard nudge from Claire and a glare from Steve.

"Hey, who asked you, Squirt?" he shot back. "Anyway, Claire, until you can find me a suitable pair of guns to replace these, their mine. See you around, babe." He walked out the door we came in, leaving Claire and I gawking at his audacity. We save his life and this is the thanks we get?!"

"We really should have just left him in there …" Claire said, slapping a hand to her face.

"Come on, let's get out of here," I said, following in the direction Steve took.

"Not quite so fast," Claire said, grabbing my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. "I need to find some hemostatic medicine."

A bewildered look fell upon my face. "What the fuck for?!" The both of us continued heading down the hall way, me practically dragging Claire along. We exited the room, and into the unbelievably long corridor, reaching the entrance hall with her still struggling a little.

"There's a man that helped me," she said, sighing. "He unlocked the cell door that they kept me in and let me go. Juan Raval Rodrigo is his name, and he …"

"Rodrigo?!"

"You know him?"

"Yeah! And the real Rodrigo is a cold hearted bastard! I don't see why he'd let you out from your cell unless there was something in it for him. Oh no wait, there was. He needed some medicine."

"It's not like he expected me to find it," Claire said, jumping to his defense.

"Then it's probable that he wasn't expecting you to live after releasing you either."

"Wow, you don't like people much, do you?" she said, scratching her head.

I shrugged. "I've had a hard life, what can I say?"

"Shh!" Claire hissed, pressing her finger to her lips. "Do you hear that?"

I stopped talking a stood very still, listening for any form of unexplainable sound. At first I heard nothing. But when I pricked my ears up a little higher, I notice a faint hum in the distance. It sounded like … planes? "The sea planes," I said, grabbing Claire by the wrist. "They're taking off. We have to make it to the dock!"

"What?!"

"This island has an airport that also serves as a dock for our seaplanes. We can use the planes as a means of escape."

"You've got to go ahead first, Kenny," Claire said. "Leave this island and send in some help for us via Chris, as soon as you can. You still have his contact, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but you've got to come with me. Chris will be worried about you if you don't."

"I'm not going to let Rodrigo and Steve die here," she said.

"But …" I began, but when I saw the determination in her sharp blue eyes, I decided that going against her wishes wouldn't fly. "Fine," I said, giving in, "but I'm leaving a plane at the dock for you. I'll leave the dock bridge down so nobody will think about taking the spare plane. But when you escape, you realize that you will have to raise the bridge right?"

"Hold on, you know how to work the mechanics on this island?"

"Uh … three months of training?" I suggested.

"That's not a whole lot."

"It's enough for me. Now listen closely, if you want to raise the bridge, you'll need the level to the machine on upper level of the aiport. I'll keep that in the plane. To get to the plane …"

" … I'll need the army seals, I know!" Claire said, throwing her hands up. "Just get out of here, Kenny! Escape this place and send help. You're our only hope."

"You'll be alright," I stated, more than asked. I knew she would. Claire had to remain safe. I could ever forgive myself if anything happened to her. Well … truthfully, I was more afraid of what Chris would do to me if she died – cause she wouldn't have if I hadn't told her where he was … okay I think I've repeated that enough times already.

I left Claire in the palace and headed out to the courtyard, gazing up at the large moon overhead, watching the planes as they zipped by. A soft breeze blew at my face, ruffled my hair. It moved the bushes and shrubs that lay around the courtyard in flowerbeds carved from stone. The cobblestone ground was cold against my bare feet and for the first time that night, I realize that I was still in my sleepwear, from when I had gotten out of bed to take a closer look at the new prisoner, just before the missile strike. When I got to civilization, a change of clothes was the first thing on my priority list.

Instead of heading left from the main doors to the palace to the military training facility, I hung a right, towards the submarine that would take me to the bottom level of the airport. The cobblestone path led towards a single iron gate that squeaked viciously upon opening, leading down to a flight of stairs. The platform on the bottom led to the submarine submerged in the man-made river. I descended the stairs and approached the platform, stepping onto its metal surface. The cold struck my feet, sending shivers up and down my spine uncontrollably. There was a hollow in the stand that was connected to the platform where a pirate ship's wheel could be connected. Spinning the wheel would make the sub rise from the water and open its hatch. But I needed to do no such thing.

I removed the top panel casing to the stand, revealing a number pad and some exposed wires connected to it. By punching in my ID number, password, and speaking into the mini microphone attached to the number pad, the computer had recognized me as me. The platform extended over the river with an electronic hum and the submarine revealed itself to me, the hatch door opening without any fuss. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the metallic, underwater prison.

My footsteps made a metallic clang against the metal steps of the ladder as I descended. Judging by how quickly the echoes bounced back to me, I developed a rough impression as to how big the submarine was – about the size of a bedroom. I waited a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then they began picking up the light coming from the console at the front end of the submarine. I walked over and keyed in my destination – the airport. A slight humming sound came from the motors and the moonlight that shone into the sub from the hatch gradually faded as the hatch closed. Then I heard a bubbling noise. Looking out one of the porthole windows, I could see little movements of air rising from under water.

The submarine jerked violently to a stop just a few minutes later, having reached my destination. The hatch once again opened up and I crawled out, into what looked like an underwater glass room. I looked down, noting that I was standing on concrete, but the walls were made completely of glass – I could see right into the depths. It was dark and murky, so incredibly thick that not even a flashlight could pierce that abyss. I started imagining strange creatures emerging from the waters and smashing their giant bodies against the glass, forcing the water to rush in a consume me. I think I've watched Jaws a few too many times.

I shook my head to gather my conscience and walked out of the glass room towards a set of stairs that lead down into the lounge. The lounge was a pretty plain place to be honest, hardly any furnishings, a desk and a chair, and a fish tank set into the wall. There were two doors across where I stood, one on the left, and the other on the right. I took the left door which lead out into the gates, where we would board the planes.

"We were just about to leave without you …"

"Fuck! Wesker!" I cried. The ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain stood there with his arms folded, between me and the platform that could be lowered to the seaplane. The moonlight reflected eerily off his sunglasses. A part of me wanted to laugh at him for wearing the sunglasses at night, but I had to stifle my reflexes. Wesker was all about business and he's proven it to me before.

He cocked his head towards the aircraft behind him. "The plane's loaded with survivors. I suggest you get on." I didn't reply, only stood there picking him apart visually, taking note of his body language, his tone of voice, and his gestures. Why was Wesker trying to help me? The last time we met, he knocked my conscience into outer space with a single punch. I knew that he wanted the Shadow Technology from me, so any cooperating with him would seal my fate in his hands.

"No," I said. I wanted to sound firm, confident and in control. But it came out as more of a plea. The corners of Wesker's mouth stretched apart in a wide grin. "Whether you like it or not, Kenny, you're getting on that plane. I came here for a sample of the T Veronica Virus and instead, I found you. Knowing that the only sample of the virus lies in Umbrella's Antarctic Base, I have to go there next and get it. Since I'd rather not make another trip here for the Shadow Technology, I figured it would be more convenient for you to just go there as well."

"I'd rather be zombie food," I spat.

"As you wish …"

He dashed at me, his arm winding behind him for a powerful punch. I dodged to the right, parried his strike with an outward block. Grabbing his forearm the my blocking arm, I held it in place as I swung my other hand downwards onto his elbow in a karate chopping fashion. But Wesker grabbed that hand at the wrist. He pried my arms apart, with inhuman strength, leaving me wide open to an attack, and butted me with his forehead. There was something different about him, there was no mistaking it. The force that he used to strike me was so powerful, it sent me flying from his grip into the wall behind me. My body cracked the cement, sending a rain of dust and debris over my body.

I looked up to gather my senses and notice that he was already in the air, preparing to land a kick at my chest. I rolled forward under his body, not even a second before his foot came into contact with the wall, creating a hole in the concrete. I was frozen for a split second, unable to believe just how powerful he was. He pulled his foot out of the wall with lightning speed and ran for me again. The intense training the military put me through sharpened my reflexes. I jumped into the air, performing a double mid-air somersault. After the second somersault, as my body ran parallel to the ground, I kicked both legs out together, catching Wesker in the chin with a drop kick. His head snapped back sharply and he stumbled back, as I curled by body into a ball when I contacted the ground to soften the impact.

I heard a clap as I got back up to my feet, noticing that I had kicked the sunglasses off his face and they skidded off towards the broken wall. He stared at me with his reptilian eyes and I shuddered, not quite used to them yet. His collected expression transformed before my eyes into a scowl – a very uncharacteristic expression for him.

Wesker released his own legs out from under him, catching himself with his arms just before he crashed to the ground, kicking out his legs at the same time. He caught me at the ankles and I was once again heading for the ground. I landed on my elbows and hips – the incredible pain shooting through them like a flash of lightning. Wesker followed up the kick with downward stomp aimed at my head. Reaching quickly into my pocket, I extracted the magnum that I'd been carrying with me this whole time, and aimed upward, pulling the trigger like it was my only hope in the world.

A loud bang echoed throughout the area, deafening my ears for a brief moment. Despite that moment of silence, I could have sworn I heard Wesker grunt in pain. Something warm splashed on my upper body. It was blood, it had to be blood! His body, still with his foot up ready for the stomp that would've surely put me out of service or even killed me, fell over with a thud.

I opened my eyes, only realizing then that they were closed, and took note of what really had fallen on me. And I was right. I was blood. Then I noticed his fallen form … unmoving in the silent night air. He really was dead. I thought about showing his body to Chris, or taking pictures of it … anything that would make him believe that Wesker was alive. The keyword here is was.

My thoughts were interrupted when he sat up, almost like a zombie would have, and continued glaring at me. There was a skin tear between his eyes that was dripping blood. But beyond the skin, there was no flesh, only some metallic element … was he a robot? Did Wesker gain mechanical implants? Who did this to him?

He grinned at me, a devilish smile. "You're making me very angry, Kenny …"

I gulped and backed off, away from this freak of nature, clutching the magnum like a child holding his teddy bear in fear from the monster under the bed. But Wesker … he was a REAL monster. "…very angry …


	21. Chapter 16: Entering Deep Freeze

**Jojo10:** It's the reviews that are keeping me going strong. I hope to continue receiving your support!

**E-Z-B:** That's so cool I was able to inspire you. I've read the first chapter of your new fic, and I've already reviewed it. So my question to you now is, when the hell are you going to update?!

**Yue**** Michiru Naragisawa Miko: **Wesker isn't really a cyborg, I don't think. I'm just going from what I saw when playing Resident Evil: Code Veronica. He looked like a cyborg, or a robot of some kind.

**Jano** What, do you think Kenny would lose so easily to Wesker? I don't think so! ;)

**Lost Survivor:** Um … I think when Wesker got impaled by the Tyrant in RE1, he was supposed to have DIED, not made stronger by the virus. I dunno if this contains any spoilers or if my facts are straight, even, but according to the Wesker Reports, documents released with the GameCube versions of the RE games, it was Ada that saved him from certain death. So it's safe to say that even outside of this fanfic, Ada and Wesker are cahoots. Actually, I got the idea to make them partners from the Wesker reports.

**CHAPTER 16:**** Entering Deep Freeze**

Wesker's iron grip tightened mercilessly around my neck, rapidly cutting off the oxygen that fueled my body to fight back. The bastard sure knew what he was doing, holding me off the ground with one arm, my feet dangling just under a foot above the cement. Being in this situation was the least of my worries, however. The display of anger he'd shown just moments earlier, anger that had erupted after I decided to fight him and knock away his expensive Gucci sunglasses, gave me the impression that he was going to do far more damage than cut off my air supply. Then again, I suppose that in itself was a pretty deadly act.

But somehow I could tell that from beyond that cocky smirk that had embedded itself onto his face, beyond that typical Wesker demeanor that his body once again settled into, killing me wasn't part of his plan, as much as he wanted to. We both knew it. I was valuable to him as long as there was breath in my body – because my survival assured that of the Shadow Technology within my body, the other prize Wesker hoped to obtain besides a sample of the T-Veronica Virus.

I managed a cocky smile myself, reflecting what I saw in his face. "Why don't you go ahead and kill me, you insolent fuck?"

That snide comment earned me nothing but a brutal face plant into the cement wall. My nose started gushing blood again. Wesker brought my face to meet his once again, until our noses were almost touching, my own blood spurting just millimeters from his. "What was that you said?" he seethed through tight lips.

Then I bit his nose. I opened my mouth wide, tilted my head and clamped down with my jaws as hard as I could. He's given me a bleeding nose twice that night. Let's see how the fucker likes a taste of his own medicine. Wesker howled in pain. I tugged my head back and forth, twisting and pulling, hoping to further open the wound and draw more blood. That was when he let me go. Perhaps that was an understatement. He flung my body with his super-human strength and I went sailing through the air like a rag doll. He didn't even look to see where I had landed, too occupied with the fresh wound I gouged in his face with my teeth.

To my misfortune, I flew off the loading platform and landed on the steps of the seaplane, a set of steps that unfolded out from the craft's side. The force of the impact sent ripples of energy through my body, probably fracturing a rib or two. I didn't know what exactly it did to me – all I knew was that it hurt like a bitch. Hot tears stung my eyes as I placed a hand on my back, crying and cursing in pain. It's safe to say there were no longer any pairs of virgin ears that night.

"Hey, are you alright?" somebody asked. I looked up through my watery vision and saw a worker at the Rockfort Facility – a survivor – looking at me with a genuine expression of concern in his eyes. He was about in his late thirties with a wrinkled face. From under a baseball cap, dark locks of brown hair spilled out, past his forehead and into his eyes. Judging from the gray jumpsuit with bright fluorescent yellow lining, I could tell he worked at the airport. He was probably going to be the pilot for our trip out of here.

"We've gotta get off this plane," I said, ignoring my pain. "That guy's organizing our escape." I pointed to Wesker, still cradling his face up on the boarding platform.

The worker lifted an eyebrow, looking at me funny. "That's … a bad thing?"

"You don't know him!" I cried. "You saw what he just did to me."

The worker shrugged. "I thought you were just being a little shit, not wanting to get on the plane cause you didn't like him. In this kind of situation, we can't pick and choose …"

"Get out of here!" Wesker cried, from the platform. What was this guy thinking? Why was he trying to act like the good guy all of a sudden? He could've fooled the airport worker but he definitely wasn't going to fool me.

"What about you?!" the worker asked, shouting across the gap between the plane and the platform.

"I've got to stay behind and find any other survivors!" Wesker replied. "Now go!"

"I'm on it!"

"NO!" I shouted, grabbing the guy by the elbow. "We can't listen to him. He's got something planned, I know it!"

He yanked his arm back, out of my grip. "Look, all I know is that I want off this island, and so do the four others on board this flight. I don't want any trouble. Now get into the cargo hold and join the others while I take this baby up into the air. If not, then you can get off."

He wasn't giving me much of a choice. I didn't want to remain on Rockfort. But I knew I was only escaping from a disaster area into Wesker's grasp. I would've rather taken my chances with the zombies. But then, I heard Claire's words in my mind, reminding me of what I had to do. I had to leave the island and send help for her and Steve. And I'd have better chances of getting help by escaping the island, even into whatever Wesker had planned for me, than remaining on the cursed piece of rock. I may not be safe, but at least I can help Claire out. I nodded in response to the annoyed airport worker and stood up – not without some difficulty from the damage my back surely suffered.

"Do you need help getting back there?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," I insisted, as I sauntered my way towards the back of the plane where a door was set, which could've only led to the cargo hold."

**Twenty minutes later …**

I closed my eyes, letting the hum of the plane's engines put me to sleep. I wanted to get a look outside, take in my new found freedom, let my eyes feast on the ocean below and the stars up above, but there were no windows back here – just piles of crates, some empty, some full. The hold was dim, lighted by a single bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling, inconsistently bathing us in its pool of light as it swung back and forth as the plane rode with wind currents.

Including myself, there were five of us in that hold. The others included a balding middle aged man with a gray goatee, a perky blond teenage boy not much older than me with a squeaky voice and a crutch, a rather sick looking man in his mid twenties, a young woman that oddly reminded me of Claire, except that she held a cigarette between her fingers … oh man, it's been a few stressful hours since my last one. I approached her meekly.

"Excuse me, ma'am," I said, nodding my head to her, "do you think I could bum one off you?"

"Sure," she replied, reaching into her pocket, pulling out a half-full pack of smokes. "I still have a few left."

"I won't be needing too much," I assured, slipping one out of the package.

"We escape the virus with a bunch of smokers," he middle aged man scoffed. "If the damn virus won't kill us, that second hand smoke will."

I shot him an angry glance. "Good, so I can enjoy this and kill you at the same time!" I held up my cigarette.

"You've got attitude," he spat. "Your parents should've spanked you hella harder."

"With that ugly face, it's too bad you weren't mistaken for a zombie and SHOT!!"

"Why you little …" He got up and rolled a sleeve up his arm.

"Hey, hey, guys, there's no need for this!" the perky teenage boy said, hobbling between us on his crutch. "We all escaped the island successfully and we should be thankful to be alive … AAGGGHHH!!!"

He suddenly cried out loud in pain, having a gray, decaying human corpse rise from its place hidden behind one of the crates in the darkness, and bite hard into his shoulder. It was a zombie … that man who looked sick … I thought he merely sustained injuries! I felt so stupid that I didn't even consider the fact that he could have caught the virus from his wound. The smoker lady, the middle aged man and I suddenly backed into a corner, all of our eyes wide with fear as we saw the poor teen get mangled and mauled by the zombie, hearing his crutch drop with a loud, hollow clang.

It was the smoker lady that came to her senses first. She ran at the zombie and kicked up her foot, embedding the sharp tip of her stilettos into its chest. The force pushed the zombie off the teen, letting him crash to the floor in a bloody heap. The woman's foot came back down, without the shoe, still stuck in the zombie's chest.

"I still can't believe these fucking things exist," she cried, stumbling backwards. She kicked up her other foot and caught her other shoe in her palm, thrusting it at the zombie. Her shoe bounced harmlessly off the creatures head. She joined me and the middle aged man back in the corner. "There's nothing else I can do."

I wanted to use my magnum on the zombie, but I realized I had to conserve my ammunition. I still had the box of bullets that Alfred gave me in my pocket, threatening to pull my pajama pants down with its combined weight with the gun. But who knew how many I would need in my upcoming confrontation with Wesker. And I knew I would be seeing him again, and I wanted to get prepared early. "Maybe if we can try and find some weapons we can use against the zombie … melee weapons, and knock its head off or something."

The middle aged man ran straight for the crutch, picked it up, and took a powerful swing at the zombie. It hit the zombie's shoulder, making it lose its balance and stumble back for a moment. He continued poking the zombie with the bottom end of the crutch, hoping to poke holes in its decaying body. He looked over his shoulder and shouted at us.

"Quickly, find some weapons!"

"Right!" the smoker lady said. She bent down and started scouring the floor for something to fight with – a fatal mistake. We were too filled with adrenaline to realize that the teen who lay in a puddle of his own blood on the floor of the cargo hold was transforming into one of the undead himself. I'd experienced zombies in Raccoon City before, and I knew they used to be people, but I never actually saw a person turn into one of the undead.

He reached out for the woman's calf and sunk his viral teeth into it, ripping out chunks of flesh and spilling blood. The woman's scream pierced the air and our ears, but the zombies were not receptive to it. The middle aged man took a second to cover his own ears, but that was all the time the original zombie needed to bite into the man's skull. The teen crawled onto the woman and began devouring her leg while she screamed and pleaded for me to help her. On the opposite end of the cargo hold, the middle aged man was getting his skull cracked open from in between the zombie's powerful jaws, spilling bloody matter all over the floor. I took the magnum out of my pocket and aimed it at the woman's forehead.

"Please … do it …" she begged, as the tears streamed out from her eyes. "I don't want to become …"

I nodded, closed my eyes … and tried to pull the trigger. I was shocked at my own reaction. The woman's gaze still met my own. She was crying even harder now, pleading with me through violent sobs to end her suffering. I tried and tried to pull the trigger, but at the last moment, my fingers refused to move, no matter how hard I tried to make them.

I don't know if it was the frustration from feeling so helpless, or the sadness from seeing somebody die right in front of me, but I began to cry myself. The feeling of hot tears stinging my cheeks was comforting. I had gone through three months of training at the Rockfort facility and whizzed through all the drills. But never in my life did I ever imagine facing one of the situations we drilled for in real life. After all, I was never serious about becoming a soldier. My main purpose was to deter Wesker's and Ada's attentions away from Chris and the others, onto Umbrella. But now I found myself facing a moment where my training was needed – the psychological training to be able to kill quickly and efficiently without even a second thought. Had this woman been an enemy, I would have given her ample time to turn the tables and kill me.

It wasn't until the teen turned zombie looked up from its meal when the realization of what was happening hit me. The woman was about to join him in a few minutes. I looked back at her, realizing that she'd never taken her eyes away from me. "Do it … kill me …" she mouthed. Once again, I pointed the magnum at her. I closed my eyes and I don't even remember pulling the trigger when I felt a spray of blood fall onto my pants. When I dared to look, she was dead … completely lifeless on the ground, her large empty eyes staring off into nothing in particular.

And then I also noticed the teen zombie about to grab and bite me. I quickly shifted my aim at him, this time without even a second thought, put a hole his head. It made me ill that I was getting the hang of it. But hey, it was necessary to survive, right?

Realizing that I was the only left in that cargo hold with any chance of getting out alive, I dashed for the door, past the first zombie that was already dining on the corpse of the middle aged man and into the door that lead into the rest of the plane, and the cockpit. I slammed the door shut and collapsed against it, hoping my weight would keep it closed.

The pilot looked at me. His eyes shot open wide with concern. "What the hell happened back there?!" he asked.

"We had a renegade zombie …" I replied weakly.

"Are you bitten?"

I shook my head.

"Did you get any blood in you, through oral, nasal or wound intake?"

I shook my head again. "I'm fine," I insisted. "Open the cargo hatch and deposit our rotten luggage."

"I can't risk polluting the ocean with them," he said, regretfully. "If fish were to dine on the viral flesh, they might catch it too. If it's this contagious among humans, it can most likely spread to other life forms as well."

He was right. We had to keep that stinking cargo of rotting, walking corpses until we could safely set this plane on fire and burn any remaining traces of the virus … including my blood splattered clothes. Shit, what'll I wear?!

"What the hell?" the pilot suddenly cried, more from surprise than anything else.

"Huh?" I asked, heading over to the cockpit. "What's going on?"

"I've lost control of the plane," he said. "It seems to be flying on autopilot."

"Sorry for interrupting you folks," a girly voice said over the intercom. "But as a precaution against the spreading of the T-Virus, I cannot allow you to escape back to civilization, tee hee hee!"

I smashed my fists onto the dashboard. "Admiral Ashford, you can't do this to us! We've escaped from the island uninfected!"

"Your aircraft will now be diverted to another Umbrella location so that you are treated, and the problem may be corrected accordingly." Apparently, there was no way for us to respond because Admiral Ashford didn't seem acknowledge anything I was saying. "The co-ordinates of your destination are being uploaded onto the plane's computer …"

The pilot spun in his chair, over to the navigation system … or were we already at the navigation system? Ah fuck it, I had no idea how to fly a plane!

"You've gotta be kidding me!" the pilot exclaimed, slapping his hand to his forehead.

"Why?!"

"You won't believe where he's sending this plane … to the Antarctica."

"WHAT?!?! You've gotta be kidding me …"

"No way, I'm dead serious," he said pointing to the glowing red dot on the navigation map. "See that peninsula on the corner of the map? That's actually the southern tip of South America."

"He's not planning on treating us," I whispered in horror, "Alfred's planning on covering up Umbrella's illegal viral experiments by destroying any traces of the virus, and killing the survivors of the disaster … killing … us …"


	22. Chapter 17: The Icy Abyss

**Emma: **I don't normally write my stories in a way that readers have to know what is going on in order to understand them. But because I'm crazy about Resident Evil, I wanted to contribute a story that did not interrupt the official storylines. I wanted a story that flows along with the official storyline, adding yet another dimension, another perspective to it. That's why in order to understand this story, a reader must have a clear idea on what has happened in the Resident Evil universe.

**Yue**** Michiru Nagarisawa Miko: **You're right that Kenny is important to Wesker. But it's Alfred that's trying to kill Kenny, and Alfred's not allied with Wesker in any way. All he cares about is the Ashford family name and his importance on Rockfort Island, not that the place is much of anything anymore. And yes, I've played Silent Hill and I own Silent Hill 2. I must say – I absolutely despise that series. It's too long of a story to fit on here.

**Lost Survivor: **Thanks! I didn't intend for that to be a cliffhanger, but I thought it was a suitable place to end the chapter. I think Kenny knew that Alfred was a nutcase long before this chapter. I mean, anyone who's played Code Veronica could probably tell from the moment he came on screen.

**Flamestrike**It gets waaaaay pissier, my friend, when you haven't had a decent, uninterrupted cigarette break in over twelve hours.

**E-Z B : **I know what you mean when the computer starts giving you problems. That's when you smash the damn thing, sell the parts and use the money to go to a new computer. I'm glad to see that you have a lot of ideas, and judging my the information overload on your new RE fic, I can tell that you care about your character to the point where you want us to get to know him, even though you presented him in a method that didn't work for me. But it's that same "passion" for your own creation that, with the right skills, will enable people to see Jake Cavanaugh the way you do.

**Jojo10: **Ok, big update this time. Hopefully there's enough that happens here to tie you over for awhile.

**Jano**Dude, don't you know that anyone who doesn't have a name gets killed of in stories?! ;)__

"H-how l-long more?" I asked the pilot, shivering violently. I sat crouched at the back of the plane sitting atop a crate with my knees pulled into my body, my arms wrapped tightly around them, hoping to provide some warmth. We were close to the Antarctica – the blinding blizzard visible from the windows and the giant ice blocks afloat in the water was a giveaway. My clothes were still damp from the showers that Rockfort Island had undergone, and in this kind of temperature, my damp clothes were no doubt about to freeze onto my body. I looked down at my clothes, calculating what kind of warmth they would provide against the freezing temperatures of the South Pole. I had no shoes, a pair of plaid pants and a white T-shirt – my typical sleepwear. Okay, so the next step was to come to grips with the fact that I was going to freeze to death.

"About another fifteen minutes," the pilot replied sadly from the navigator's seat, elbows resting on the console with his head in his hands. "Only fifteen minutes of our lives left to enjoy."

"Y-you're not gonna g-give up are y-you?" I asked.

He turned around to face me. "There should be an extra uniform and some boots in that trunk." He tipped his chin at a large trunk – one that looked surprisingly like the one I saw in Alfred's office – that sat beside the crate I rested on. "We keep extra uniforms just in case somebody needs it, for any reason. It's a long sleeved jumpsuit that looks like mine, so it should keep you at least a little warmer."

"T-thanks," I mumbled, not having any energy to come up with anything more enthusiastic.

"But, like I was saying earlier," he pilot continued, "I am giving up." He grunted as he lifted the heavy lid of the trunk and pulled out a jumpsuit. "What size are you?"

"Small, men's."

"Because our whole struggle for survival is a hopeless cause."

"How can you say that? We've made it so far!"

"Yeah, only to be frozen to death in the Antarctic. All of our efforts … wasted. Does it fit?"

"It's a little baggy, but I'll survive. And we have to find some way of surviving at our destination too! No doubt all the other planes that took off before us will be headed there too. So that way, we could probably find some way of sending out word for help. I think there might be an Australian base somewhere on that continent …"

"You're on your own, kid," the pilot suddenly snapped.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I don't think I can go on any longer."

"You have to! We'll make it out of this mess, I know it! I've got a friend, his name is Chris Redfield. I can contact him via the internet – assuming this Antarctic base has access to the web. All I need is the co-ordinates of the base on the screen."

The pilot cocked an eyebrow. "You're shitting me."

I shook my head. "I wouldn't, not when we're in a situation like this."

"Do you have a gun on you?"

"Yeah, a magnum revolver."

"We better keep it close by. There's no telling when the zombies in the cargo hold are going to wake up, go berserk, and smash through that door. I can't believe this …" He shook his head.

"Can't believe what?"

"You being able to get help. It's just too good to be true."

"Well it is true. If you can, just make sure you land this plane properly."

"That's not an option," he replied, "cause this thing's on autopilot. Hell, it's on auto-everything!" He wiggled the controls between stiff, cold hands. "I can't tell it to do anything!"

"God, Alfred's not planning to kill us by crashing this plane into the ice, is he?!"

"Your guess is as good as mine," the pilot said, shrugging.

"He can't be," I said, trying to reason against reason. "An explosion would alert any military outpost in the area, risking Umbrella's cover."

"But who's to say there's any military outpost here?"

"I can hope."

Somebody up there loves me, I'm convinced of it because about five minutes of debating on whether or not Alfred planned to crash the plane, we noticed the plane slowly descend from the sky, the ice blocks now looking a lot bigger. Going by the speedometer readings, we were slowing down too. I hoped this was a sign that we weren't gonna die in a crash – no we could just die from the cold instead.

The aircraft landed on a thick sheet of ice in the middle of a blinding blizzard. I couldn't tell where the plane was going, but the autopilot sure knew. By the time the wheels touched the ice, the pilot and I – come to think of it, I didn't even know his name yet – were tightly strapped in the chairs, our heads bobbing up and down with every little bump the plane ran over. The entire cockpit was shaking so badly that even the crate that I was sitting on before rattled along the ground.

We waited patiently for the aircraft to stop moving, assuming that it was parking somewhere. I'd never head of a plane that parked itself before, unless somebody was manually controlling it from the control tower – assuming there was one. There was no way of making out the surrounding terrain between the billions of snow flakes falling from the sky, whipping at the shell of the plane with the strong winds. I could vaguely make out the large rectangular shapes of the nearby building, although it was impossible to tell the purpose of the structure just by its shape and sheer size. When the craft finally came to a stop, the pilot and I unbuckled ourselves from the seats and headed for the doors – the very same doors that unfolded from the side of the plane into a set of stairs.

The pilot looked at me just before hitting the eject button for the stairs. "Do you think you're ready for this?"

"No, but I don't have much choice, do I?"

He slammed his palm on the blinking red button to the side of the door frame and the stairs opened. They had only opened just a crack when I could feel the fierce, biting air of the cold against my skin. I pulled my hands into the jumpsuit sleeves, wrapped my arms around my body and tucked my lower face into the collar, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the plane.

The wind was indescribably strong. The force it whipped the snowflakes around was so overwhelming that I could've sworn the snowflakes scratched my face as they flew past. I turned around to see the pilot, as pathetically protected against the cold as I was, trudging through the knee high snow just behind me. When we made eye contact, he pointed at the structure that was beginning to get clearer. It looked like some kind of aircraft hangar with a giant silo right beside it. I doubt the silo was used to store grain but a part of me hoped. The thought of food was making my stomach grumble.

"We've got to find a door!" I hollered. But upon hearing no response, I realized the howling wind must've drowned out our voices. So I just relied on hand motions, waving him towards me when I wanted him to follow, and he would throw snowballs to get my attention. I didn't find it funny but I could tell he enjoyed it.

**_Ten minutes later …_**

****

We found the door to the hangar and entered the building, using a ladder to climb onto a walkway that hung just above a fighter jet plane. My hands had a hard time holding on, due to the low temperature of the building, and the even lower temperature outside. We hadn't even been in the Antarctic for fifteen minutes and we were already cold as hell. In the coldest place on earth, I guess that's to be expected. I immediately found myself cursing at the architect of this building. I concluded that whoever put the plans down for this place was an utter moron. The walls of the hangar were concrete – or so I guessed from how well they stood against the force of the winds, no creaking, no bulging, nothing. Stone is not good for insulation. And the walkway that our feet clanked on was made obviously of metal, with patches of ice here and there. I slipped on a patch and nearly fell off the walkway as a result. I would've survived the two storey fall, but it would've hurt like a bitch. And plus, this wasn't the ideal place to get hurt.

The walkway led to a circular room. Well it wasn't exactly a room. The ceiling was over a hundred feet over our heads and from where we stood, I couldn't see the bottom. We were probably in the silo. We were standing on yet another walkway, one that ran around the perimeter of the room. There was a second walkway below ours, a ladder connecting the two. The lower one led to two doors.

"Let's get in there and see if we can find anyone," the pilot said pointing at the second set of doors at the farthest end of the second platform, right beside a flight of stairs heading down. "It should be warmer the deeper we go into the structure, instead of staying in this freezer of a building." I nodded in silent agreement and we both began heading in the general direction of the second platform.

Upon entering, I had to pinch my nose at the stench that erupted from the room. It had the sweet, sick stench of rotting … no … "They can't be here too," I said, backing towards the door in horror.

"What?" the pilot said, entering behind me. But I could tell he knew exactly what I was talking about when he suddenly gasped. "God, that's awful."

"I've gotten pretty used to the smell of zombies," I said turning around to face him, "and I think they're here too … AAAHH!!!"

I didn't notice the sloppy wet footsteps of an undead, sneaking from the shadows behind the door until it grabbed the pilot from behind, placing is diseased, rotting, gray hands on his shoulders and chomping its teeth down on his neck.

I reflexively shut my eyes, and just in time too, before a spray of blood splattered on my face. I clawed at my face with my finger tips, hoping that I didn't let it get into my eyes, nose or mouth. It was fresh blood, from an uninfected person, but in the brief contact with the zombie's teeth, I didn't know if it had contracted the virus or not.

The pilot's cry of fear and agony pierced my ears. I opened my eyes – big mistake. He was gushing blood from his wound. My whole body was covered by little blood droplets. But that wasn't what shocked me. It was him kicking his legs as he was being devoured, the horror in his eyes in realization that he was being eaten alive. It was the way his jaw was permanently locked in a big O, paralyzed that way partly from fear, partly from pain. It was the same look the woman on the plane gave me as she was being killed. And I knew what to do.

Two loud shots finished the job – one through the head of the pilot, and the other through the zombie. Within seconds, there were two bodies on the ground and one giant pool of blood as the zombie's own coagulated fluids mixed with the pilot's fresh ones.

There was another moan, this one from deeper in the room. For the first time, I actually noticed the contents of the room. There were bunk beds – one that sat on the opposite side of the room from where I stood, the foot ends of the beds facing me. I could see the edges of a few more around the corner, but I was sure as hell not going to go there.

As hungry as I was, my first priority was to find a computer where I could contact Chris. I would need access to a computer, and I left my Umbrella identification back at Rockfort. I searched the pilot's corpse for any identification. Fortunately, I didn't have to go very far in my search because the moment I patted the chest pocket, I could feel the rectangular shape of the id card inside its plastic casing and the beaded chain it was attached to. I slipped the card out of the pilot's pocket, stepped over the zombies rotting corpse with my fingers pinching my nose tightly, and exited the room, making sure that the door closed firmly behind me. I wasn't going to take any chances of those things coming after me.

I took the stairs leading down, just beside the doorway. There was always something scary about stairs that went down. It felt as though I was descending into the depths of hell. And to make things worse, the electricity wasn't running in this joint, making me walk down into darkness. My first instincts were to panic – after all, I was a piece of food with predators lurking at every corner. The darkness didn't do much to comfort me either.

So instead of going down, I decided to try my luck and go through the other set of doors just a few feet away to my right. It was a set of metallic double doors with handles that were terribly icy to the touch. I pulled one of them open with a grunt from myself and a heavy groan from the doors as if they didn't want to be opened. I closed them behind me and took a second to catch my breath. The room was dark in here too, but it wasn't completely pitch black. I listened closely for any sounds of life – good or bad. There were shuffling footsteps, of zombies, no doubt. After a few more seconds, my nose began picking up their stench, confirming my initial impressions.

How was it that they were here too? Was every Umbrella base just a zombie factory? There was no way they could've kept the T-Virus here too, was there? Some of the Rockfort survivors must've had the virus in them and spread it upon arriving at this facility. How could it be that I was not yet infected? Given the rate of infection, you'd think it was airborne or something. But no, that's not how the virus is spread. While it was true that one could contract the virus by breathing it in, it only remained airborne for a short amount of time. It no longer becomes contractible by breathing after the oxygen in the air has done something to it – I forgot how it goes. So after that, the T-Virus relies on its hosts to spread the virus, destroying all senses of its subject except for the primitive carnivorous craving. So when the host takes a bite into an uninfected, the virus spreads from the saliva deposited into the wound.

That was just my theory, based on what Chris discussed with me. He used a lot of big scientific words and quite frankly, a lot of it bored me. It's kinda shocking too, cause I always thought Chris was a little on the dumb side. But don't tell him I said that. Anyway, I should have paid more attention because here I was again, in a life a death struggle with ravenous zombies and other freak creations that defied nature.

You're probably wondering how that knowledge about the T-Virus would have protected me. Well it wouldn't. It's not like I would've run up to the zombies and been all like – "Lay thy weapons down for I have discovered how thouest work!" But at least I would've had a clearer idea of what was going on. Really, to quote one of my favorite doctors, Dr. George Hamilton, it's "not knowing what lies ahead" that's scary, just because I didn't clearly understand what was going on at present to begin with. I just had theories. I really, REALLY should have paid more attention on Chris.

Anyway, I'm talking too much. So I could hear the zombie footsteps but they seemed quite distant. Understanding that I could hear nothing close to me, I decided to stay rooted to the spot for another few moments while my eyes took the time to adjust to the darkness. And then the outline of the new room became clear. This was a giant room, like the silo, had a platform running along its perimeters. The bottom of the room was actually one level below, where I guessed the zombies were. Along this … balcony … that I was standing on, there were three doors to go to - one to the left wall of the room, and two to the right. I walked to the left one first, opening it slowly to check out what was in there. And you know what? There was nothing in there. I didn't feel comfortable going through the darkness like that – I needed to find a flashlight or something.

But my curiosity had the better of me at the moment, so I decided I'd see where the other two doors led first, then I'd go on my search for a flashlight. Running along the balcony to the opposite end of the room, I tried the first door to the right – and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a zombie smash against some kind of metallic cage beside me. I quickly pointed the magnum in the direction and waited for the cage to give way. There was no telling in this kind of lighting exactly what it was that kept the zombie confined, but a cage is the only thing I could think of that it sounded like. It battered the metal fencing with its decaying fists. It rattled under the creature's strength, but I felt confident that it wouldn't give.

I headed farther into the room, feeling my way around, bumping into all sorts of corners. God, how many tables did this place have? My hand brushed up against something cold and metallic. Instinctively, my body reacted, sending a cold chill up my spine. But when I got my nerves back together and felt it, hoping it was some kind of weapon, I ran my hand up and down the object to get a feel of its shape. I felt like a metal bar or something, quite heavy and when I shook it, it felt like there was something heavy inside. Batteries? The bar widened at one end … could it have been just what I was looking for?

I twisted the end of the bar and to my luck, the "bar" formed a pool of light against the wall. For the second time since entering that room, my heart leapt – this time with joy! I could see! It was so nice to be able to see again after spending all this time in darkness. I could almost kiss the granite walls … but I didn't. Who knows if the virus clung to the walls too? God, wouldn't that be hilarious. "Teen escapes virus against odds, but succumbs by kissing a wall!"

I turned around with the flashlight in hand and screamed in horror when I saw two pairs of pupil-less eyes, set deep in smelly, rotting faces coming straight for me. The zombie in front had its hands fully outstretched and was within a few inches of grasping me. I scolded myself mentally for being too wrapped up in my excitement to even notice I was being ambushed.

Screaming out of fear and adrenaline, I shot at the creatures, by my aiming was off. I successfully blew off a right arm to the zombie in front, and another bullet that ripped off the lower portion of its left leg. It fell to the ground and stopped moving, giving me enough time to gather my senses and execute the second one behind it quickly and efficiently.

I stepped forward, over the body of the first creature – big mistake. It grabbed my foot with insane reflexes, one that I would never expect from a rotting corpse, and pulled its head towards my leg, hoping for a delicious bite. I never jumped so fast in my life. With my right leg in its grasp, I brought my left leg into the air and came down with a vicious stomp upon its skull with my newly booted feet. There was a wet sound and a wet splash. Then something cold and moist slapped against my cheek. My stomach turned as I wiped the cold goo from my face with my sleeve. I shone the flashlight downwards to see the zombies head, its teeth holding onto the tip of my boot with a death grip, the back of its decaying head cracked open, leaking out black shit all over the floor. My stomach turned again. It was time to leave.

The second door on the right led to a narrow passageway. To the left was a room that contained the electric generator for the facility where with a few button pushes and the moving of a lever, I was able to restore electricity to the joint. Thinking back, I don't think I set the lever properly because I don't remember hearing a click, a sure signal that it was locked on "ON". And that would work to my disadvantage later on. I went to the end of the corridor where there was an elevator that only brought me down one level. During the short ride down, my I panicked, realizing that I was heading down deeper underground in one of Umbrella's mysterious labs. I just had to find a computer or a phone, and Chris would do the rest.

But did I find myself in a lab? No … I was in some weird GARDEN!! It looked as if it had been ripped straight out of a child's storybook. There was a little manmade river that ran through the courtyard, and a pair of merry-go-round horses. The walls were sky blue with fluffy clouds painted towards the ceiling. I was so awestruck with confusion that I could hardly move. What the hell would a room like this be doing in an underground laboratory? What kind of crazies sat on top of the Umbrella hierarchy?! What the hell kind of people bought and owned ME?!! Shaking my head, I went into a grand set of doors set into the right wall. I had to get away from here or else I knew I'd be driven to insanity with confusion.

But this new room wasn't any easier to comprehend. It wasn't so much a room as it was a grand hall. Some rich people must live down here. I was sure of it. The floors were made of marble stone. There was a red carpet that ran from the doorway where I stood, down the room, and up a set of stairs that separated into two flights, one leading to the left, the other to the right. The upper level of this hall was made up of a platform on the opposite end where the stairs led to, and a balcony.

Just above the landing before the staircase split off into separate flights, a portrait of the Ashford family hung proudly on the walls. I didn't recognize anyone in the painting, except the head honcho of Rockfort, Alfred Ashford. He looked like a girl when he was younger too. I found myself smiling at that fact, trying hard to stifle a laugh. I swear, if it weren't for his shorter hair, he would be indistinguishable from his sister. There were three strategically place grooves in the portrait, as if they were meant for something to be fitted in. Why would anyone want to fit something into the painting? Unless … its purpose was more than just a portrait …

That realization compelled me to knock on the art piece. It vibrated. Okay. I knocked on the wall beside the picture. No vibration. There was space behind this picture – an emergency exit, perhaps? I charged against the portrait but it refused to budge, instead sending sharp pains up and down my shoulder. I rubbed it, tears of pain wetting my eyes and I scowled at the three faces that looked back down condescendingly at me.

My eyes caught sight of a little card reader right beside the portrait. The pilot's card! It was in my pocket. I whipped it out from its plastic casing and slid it down the reading slot. There was a low pitched beep and a woman's computerized voice spoke from the thing.

"Unable to grant access."

"Fuck!"

"Access restricted to Sr. Researcher rank, General rank, and higher. State your Umbrella Corporation identification number."

Holy shit! The thing talked. It wanted me to respond! I couldn't see any visible microphones to talk into. So I just cleared my throat and spoke as loudly as I could.

"Rockfort-16320."

"Access granted. Welcome, Kenneth Feng, to the Umbrella Corporation Antarctic Transport Terminal Establishment." The portrait shifted in its place, releasing a shower of debris down on me. It revealed a metallic passageway deeper into the building. How in the world was I able to gain access? Did the computer not say that access was only given to ranks above "General" and the senior researchers? I wasn't part of the scientific division and I definitely wasn't above "General" in the military division unless …

"Alfred!" I found myself exclaiming out loud. Just earlier last light he was talking to me about a promotion, and how I should consider one. No wonder he was so insistent on me accepting his offer. He'd already upgraded me in Umbrella's ranks. For once, he actually did something good for me.

I stepped through into the passageway as the portrait slid back into place, cutting off my exit. Before going farther into the room, I tried the door to my right.

"YES!!" I shouted out loud, pulling a fist towards my body. It was a computer room – probably where the scientists did their research. They were lined up along two sides of the room. The farthest wall harbored a short flight of stairs that led up to a door, but I had no interest in seeing where that path would've taken me. I had found what I was looking for this whole time!

I hopped into a chair at one of the computers. It was already on, and all I had to do was wriggle the mouse to remove the screensaver. While waiting for the desktop to load, I looked around the room and caught sight of a phone. And then I began to think. Wouldn't it be faster to phone Chris instead of emailing him? After all, his cell number was saved on the phone he gave me and I'd dialed it so many times that I had the bloody thing memorized.

I reached for the phone and brought the receiver to my ear. I let out a sigh of relief when I heard a dial tone. I phoned Chris from Rockfort my first day on the island, so he was most likely able to receive long distance phone calls. My heart began beating faster, as the realization dawned on me – rescue was only a phone call away.

Remembering the international code, dialing 1 and then his cell number, I held the receiver to my ear and waited.

_Ring …_

And I continued waiting. I kept in touch with Chris through email during my time in Rockfort, but I never phoned. Knowing the wackos that made up Umbrella's higher end of the corporation's hierarchy, I wouldn't have put it past them to rig phone lines.

_Ring …_

Somebody please just pick up! If Chris didn't pick up because he didn't recognize the number, and I died because of that, I vowed that I would haunt him for the rest of his miserable life. "Chris, I swear if you don't fucking pick up …"

"Redfield here."

"Chris!"

"Who is this … shit, KENNY?!"

"Yes, it's me!" My mouth suddenly became very dry, as if all the moisture in my body headed straight for me eyes. Tears began running down my face – tears of relief – gathering at my chin and dripping onto the desk.. "I thought you wouldn't pick up."

"Are you okay?!" he asked with urgency in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." I replied, taking a breath. "But I won't be for long. You have to get over here, I'm trapped."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the Antarctic, in one of Umbrella's secret establishments."

"What?!"

"I'm not kidding you, Chris. I'm here, zombies are all over the goddamn place looking for a warm meal, and I'm fucking cold!"

"Look, buddy," he said, "I know you've been through a lot but I'm still gonna need you to hang on for me, alright? I'm just going to pick up Claire right now. And right after that, I'm coming right for you. You got it?"

"Claire, she's …"

"She emailed her co-ordinates to Leon," Chris interrupted, "and he's relayed that information to me. I know exactly where she is."

"The place is called Rockfort Island," I continued. "There is a military training facility, a prison, and some underground labs on that island and God knows what kind of creatures running all over the place. Be careful there. That's where the infection started, and its spread over here. There's a freak you gotta watch out for – a real girly man named Alfred Ashford with a fuckin hunting rifle, and …"

"Thanks for the heads-up, kiddo," he said, cutting me off. "But I gotta let you go. I've got your co-ordinates saved onto my phone and I promise you, after I get Claire, I'm coming straight to the Antarctic base for you. I just need you to hold on for a couple more hours, okay?!"

Another couple of hours? I suppose I could lock myself in this room and not move … shoot every single zombie that comes my way. I'd already used up almost half of the ammunition Alfred gave me, but if I used the rest sparingly, perhaps …

"Did you hear me, Kenny?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"But Chris, you also have to watch out for Wesker! He's alive and he's gotten stronger … its almost like he's not human. Chris?" The walls of the vibrated, as if an explosion occurred somewhere far away. Suddenly, the lights went out. The jolt must've loosened the generator's lever, shutting it off. "Chris! Are you there?!" I suddenly found myself crying out loud into the phone in complete darkness. But the line was dead. "Chris?!" No breathing, no static, nothing …

I forced down the urge to panic, forcibly regulating my breathing as I brought my knees to my body while still sitting on the swivel seat. I reached around blindly in the darkness for the flashlight. Twisting the bottom, a small pool of orange light once again erupted from the wider end where the bulb was embedded.

The emergency call had been made. Help was on its way. But if something happened to Chris on Rockfort, or on his way over here, there was no way for me to know. I would be subjected to death in this frozen prison and I would never know until it was too late. I guess there was always the magnum that could help ease my suffering … I tried not to think about it. In the darkness, countless floors underground where no natural light reached, armed only with a flashlight to preserve my sanity in the abyss, there was nothing more I could do but wait. I don't remember how long it had been before I cried myself to sleep.

****

****

**_Author's Note: _**_A character by the name of George Hamilton was referred to in this chapter. For the readers that are unaware, George Hamilton is a character in Resident Evil Outbreak. It is not a name I've made up. The only element of this story that isn't officially part of the Resident Evil games is the main character, Kenneth, and random, nameless civilians I've decided to include in the story. _


	23. Interlude: Diary of Jill Valentine

_From the diary of Jill Valentine: _

October 3rd, 1998

Two days … it's only been two days. It feels as if the demise of Raccoon City happened only moments ago. What have I been doing during the last forty-eight hours, then? I can't remember. Every time I lie down and close my eyes, I get transported back in time, back to Raccoon City. Once again, I find myself running for my life against a creature that God himself could never make, a creature toting a rocket launcher on one arm and deadly tentacles sprouting from its back, tentacles with a life of their own. I see myself fighting that giant worm with three sharp talons protruding from around its mouth, adorned with rings of razor sharp teeth.

I have no reason to fear though. First of all, it's all over. And even as I write this, I still find that I'm trying to convince myself that it is. I don't know why my mind can't seem to grasp that concept. Umbrella's experiments may not be over, but my fear of the virus is – or it should be. I am now immune. I can no longer be turned into a zombie. And I have Carlos to thank for that. Although I do wonder how my T-Virus immune system would affect the zombies if they were to eat me. Not that I'm interested in finding out, or anything.

From what he's told me, Carlos has tried several times to make it to the hospital to try and recover an antidote for me, one that would immunize me from the T-Virus. He says he found the right tools in the Raccoon City hospital and brewed up a batch of life saving anti-virus for me. I can't thank him enough, though whenever I try to express my gratitude, he just rolls his eyes and waves his hand.

Carlos also told me about Kenny – the boy that works at the precinct with us. Oops, he's not a boy. I can just imagine his face now, if he ever knew I called him a boy. He's a teenager – a very helpful one at that. He's very into his studies, and takes his work experience at the precinct seriously. I could see a lot of potential in him to become a respectable police officer, maybe even the chief. Hell, if Brian Irons, the R.P.D. police chief can hold a second job as one of Umbrella's agents, then I suppose anyone could be a police chief in Raccoon City, huh? Well, too bad Raccoon has been wiped off the map – literally.

Apparently when I was sleeping, during the two day gap where my body was trying unsuccessfully to fight of the T-Virus, Carlos had found Kenny on the street, having survived a car crash. Carlos brought him to the clock tower and patched him up. But Kenny woke up first and then … he just left for some reason, which is a fact that I'm still weary of. I have no doubt that Carlos ran into him, just based on the description he's given me. Apparently during one of Carlos' attempt to gain access to the hospital through a crowd of the undead, Kenny tagged along. Carlos managed to escape back into the clock tower but Kenny didn't follow. We assumed at first that Kenny got killed, but when we found no remains, that's when I started to get suspicious. Zombies never finished eating an entire body because the moment their senses picked up freshly killed meat, they'd move onto that. And at the rate people were dying at the time, there'd be no shortage of fresh meat for the undead.

We escaped the city just in time – literally minutes before the missiles were sent to the center of downtown, wiping everything out within a five mile radius. From the helicopter, I watched the explosion unfold – a large, gray mushroom cloud blossoming from where the city once stood proudly against the horizon. The shockwave was visible too … well not really, but its effects were. It threw the helicopter off balance, but fortunately we were far enough away that the force of the explosion wasn't enough to send us into a death spiral.

Barry Burton … he was the one that came in to pick up Carlos and me. I owe him my life – on more than one occasion. Back in the Spencer Mansion, the incident that started this whole Umbrella Conspiracy, Barry pulled me out of a death trap – a room with a collapsible ceiling that would have turned me into a "Jill sandwich", to quote him. Barry's a sweet guy, but his humor is so corny, you'd swear it was ripped straight out of a child's book. The second time he saved me also occurred in the Spencer Mansion – or in one of its underground labs, to put it more specifically. Captain Albert Wesker, the man that had double-crossed the S.T.A.R.S. had a gun pointed at me, ready to execute me on the spot, if Barry hadn't intervened at the last possible moment, downing our scheming captain with a single bullet. And a few weeks later, with the impending destruction of Raccoon City, Barry comes in heroically once again with his helicopter, pulling me and Carlos out of the jaws of death, with only a few seconds to spare. If he's so willing to put himself on the line for his co-workers, imagine what he would do for his family! It doesn't surprise me that he's a real family man.

However, after escaping Raccoon City, I started searching for Chris – he is one of the four survivors of that incident, Barry, Rebecca Chambers, and me being the other three. Barry brought us to their headquarters, but when I got there, it was completely empty. The only thing worthy of noting in his place was his combat knife. I will continue looking for Chris. Together, we will put an end to Umbrella's ways, hopefully with Barry at our side. I don't know how long this search will take, but I'm willing to see it through to the end because I know that Chris is alive and seeing Umbrella's collapse will be worth more than every ounce of effort we make.

There is also some sadness in my heart, for Kenny. Umbrella's creations had well-trained professional S.T.A.R.S. members running for their lives. Therefore when a similar incident encompassed _all _of Raccoon City, it's highly doubtful that a boy his age would've escaped the horrors of Raccoon. It's so unfortunate. He had such potential, such a bright future …


	24. Chapter 18: Antarctic Alliance

**Dark Dragon X: **Woohoo! New reviewer! Glad my story has captured your interest, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy it until it's very end … which is coming up pretty soon, now that I think about it.

**E-Z B: **Kinda felt I needed to add Jill's perspective after putting in Chris's. Maybe I'll make it a habit to start putting little diary entries from all the main RE characters …

**Jojo**** 10: **Thank you ! I just needed something to keep readers interested while I typed out this chapter. It's pretty long – compared to the other chapters, anyway.

**Jano**I was just thinking that Jill has no way of finding out that Kenny made it out of Raccoon City alive until she meets up with Either Chris or Barry ... oh no wait … she DID meet up with Barry at the end of RE3! Okay, I think I have to go back and do some revising.

**_Author's Notes:_**_ Lisa Hartley, Jack Carpenter, Justin Thomas, Beatrice Wrigley and Julie are characters borrowed from "Resident Evil: Project Lucifer", by fellow author, Hyperactive Hamster of Doom. I highly recommend the story, and I encourage all of my readers to check out her story as well. She is a respectable, talented writer whose work is worthy of attention. Thank you, HHoD, for letting me borrow your characters._

**XXXXX**

I dreamt of being back in Raccoon City – not during its final days, but of the time I first moved there. A peaceful, mid-Western town nestled comfortably inside a ring of mountains. I dreamt of my school, walking through the hall, seeing all the familiar faces of friends and teachers. I hated high school when I was actually there, but the military had such strict training that I actually _value_ gossip now. I missed the freedom to talk about shallow things and other people, or shallow things about other people.

But almost immediately, those nostalgic times gave way to terror, disease and death – just like the actual fate of Raccoon City. I remember how it all started. Right after the first "cannibal murder" occurred, the news spread like wildfire among the students. It was exciting to talk about it – sad to say, my life before the Raccoon City disaster was boring, caught up with prep clothes, cologne and hair gel. Ah, the life of an Uptown Raccoon City kid. Looking back at just how disgustingly preppy I was in Raccoon Secondary School, I feel embarrassed for myself, all shallow like that. But work with me here, in a small city like that, cut off from the outside world by a bunch of mountains, there wasn't really anything to do for fun!

Anyway, so it was exciting to talk about the strange cannibal killings that had taken place. I'd spoken to like, ten people that day already and everyone came up with their own "I heard that …" rumors. I wasn't actually stupid enough to believe any of them, but it was crazy fun to consider all the possibilities, all the conspiracy … until I spoke to a girl named Lisa Hartley, and then I realized just how close to home the incident hit. Raccoon was a small city, but it wasn't small enough for every single one of its citizens to know each other, let alone on a first name basis.

Turned out that her neighbor was the 42 year old woman that reported one of the first zombie sightings, and that the lady was now sick, probably with the mysterious virus. Beatrice Wrigley. Now I know for a fact it was the T-Virus, being more familiar with how the virus works. I couldn't believe Lisa at first.

"Are you serious?" I kept asking her. She would only nod solemnly in response. We were sitting on the stairs outside the school, just after classes finished for the day. "I'm sorry … I didn't mean …" It didn't sound like anything I was saying was helping me.

"It's alright," Lisa said, "I never liked her much anyway. I just feel sad for her … she couldn't even remember her name before she died, at least that's what I heard."

I can understand why Lisa would hate the woman though. She wasn't quite aware about the rumors spreading about her throughout our year. I'll fill you in. The girl was famous for having a pair of horrible parents. Mr. and Mrs. Hartley were doing such a bad job of guiding their daughter in life, that they tried to make up for it by going too far in the opposite direction. Lisa would tell her best friend Julie about her domestic problems – and why she would do that baffles me to this day because Julie was a real bitch but everyone pretends to like her anyway – and Julie would spread it all over the school.

So here's what I heard straight from Julie's mouth. Apparently, Lisa's parents were big time doctors or something, and were always too busy with work to be at home with her. Lisa decided to rebel by going out with one of those downtown hoodlums who goes to our school, Jack Carpenter. He was a good for nothing schmuck who couldn't even speak English properly. His immigration from Mexico serves as no excuse, because I'm an immigrant too – ethnically Chinese born in Japan. And I don't speak all crazy like Jack did. And how the hell does someone with the last name "Carpenter" be Mexican? I bet he was just some kid sad enough for attention that he pretended to be all exotic so Lisa would be attracted to him. He followed her around like a dog too … society could really benefit from losing such uselessness.

So to make up for their horrible parenting, abandoning Lisa all the time for their work, Mr. and Mrs. Hartley decided to forbid her from seeing Jack anymore – because Lisa was too good for him. And its true, who'd want to be associated with the scum of Raccoon City? But going on an immature streak, Lisa threw a tantrum. Really, here we are, grown 15 year olds, and she's throwing a fucking tantrum because her parents won't let her see a downtown skating loser who can't speak English, that Lisa's only dating so it makes her stand out from the rest of us Uptown preps. Pathetic, I tell you. So Lisa's parents decided to have their neighbor, Beatrice Wrigley, to baby sit Lisa and make sure she didn't see Jack anymore.

I keep going off topic. So there was an outbreak in Raccoon City. More and more reports of zombie sightings filled the newspapers until they gradually began appearing on the streets and less on the papers – the reporters apparently had been eaten.

It wasn't until around the 28th of September when the situation got out of hand. I got a phone call from a friend of mine, who attended Lisa's birthday party. Julie invited me too, but I had to rack up my hours for work experience – and I didn't end up going. Anyway, my buddy from school who called me, Justin Thomas, went to the party, but they had "an unwelcome guest." He sounded terrified, while there was a whole lot of shouting and screaming in the background. He was in the middle of talking to me when suddenly I heard a wet crunch, and the phone line went dead. I don't think Justin made it out alive, or anybody else for that matter.

It was that incident that propelled me to find a way out of Raccoon City. I didn't leave the R.P.D. Precinct that night. Instead, I helped the officers herd in any survivors they'd plucked off the streets. But it wasn't until the next day – after the survivors had turned into zombies – that I began my treacherous trek out of the city.

And three months after Raccoon's destruction, I'm still in danger. ****

**XXXXX**

I awoke from my tortured slumber with a start. The skin all over my body sprouted goose bumps from the chill. I shivered, rubbing my upper arms for warmth. I looked around the room … wondering why it was so dark. My sleepy mind was slowly slipping back into reality. I was in a computer room, I knew that. I just made a rescue call to Chris and he was on his way. But how long had it been since then? How long had I been sleeping for?

And why was it so fucking dark? Suddenly a panic attack struck. I gripped my head between my hands and fought my primal instincts for control over my own body. There was an electric generator somewhere far off in another room. I didn't set the handle properly, and it was loosened from the explosion, thus cutting off electricity once again. That explained the darkness. But what explained the explosion? What was it?

There was a loud thump somewhere close … beyond the walls of the computer room. My hands scrambled all over the surrounding floor, searching for the flashlight. My body froze when it came into contact with the cold steel. Ignoring the shock of the sudden temperature change, I turned the light on, breathing a sigh of relief when I was able to see _something,_ even though it was the bottom half of a swivel chair.

I could hear a sick noise coming from the main hall of the underground mansion, just beyond the secret passageway behind the painting that led to this computer room. It sounded slimy … like someone dipping their hands in a puddle of pure snot and then rubbed them against each other. The description still makes my stomach turn. What the _hell_ was out there? Did I want to go outside to investigate? No … not right when whatever it was making that noise could still be out there. I turned off the flashlight, it case it could somehow see it. Most likely not, but I didn't want to take any chances.

I waited in darkness and in silence, with only the rhythm of my steady breathing keeping me company. The slimy noise gradually got softer in volume and then vanished over a time span of about fifteen or twenty minutes, my rough estimate. Not wanting to take my chances right away, I decided to wait another ten minutes – another estimate – to make sure the thing was gone.

I rose to my feet, turning the flashlight back on, and searched for the door. When I located it, I walked with care, trying hard not to produce any noise. I grasped the cold door handle, turned it, and walked out into the hallway and faced the back of the painting.

"Rockfort-16320," I whispered.

"Access granted!" the computers voice boomed making me leap at least three feet into the air. I prayed to the big man in the sky – who seemed to let me make it so far – that the thing didn't hear it, although the announcement was loud enough to wake the dead. Why did they even need to make it that loud? To show off to everyone else that the person being granted access was a Senior Researcher or General or a higher rank? Fuck these pompous, corrupt Umbrella officials.

The painting slid out of place, allowing me access into the main hall. Before proceeding far from the entrance, I let my flashlight search the hall – it was a big room, but the light was a cop shop, heavy duty light. Impressive stuff. After deeming the hall clear of slimy creatures, I gathered the courage to venture down the stairs and search the area for any sign of the creature's presence. But … there was nothing. There was nothing by the main door, nothing on the clean marble floor, nothing by the east door, nothing by the west door, nothing behind the stairs …

"Holy SHIT!!" I cried out loud, clasping my hand over my mouth when I heard my voice echo back to me off the walls. It was Claire, and she looked pretty badly beaten up. But that wasn't what worried me. What made me cry out in surprise was the green, alien adhesive that held her body plastered against the back of the staircase. It touched it, and not surprisingly, it was coated with slime. What was Claire doing here? She was supposed to stay on Rockfort … unless … she took the plane that I'd left her. I slapped myself for being so stupid. Alfred brought my own escape plane to the Antarctic base. The other planes also made it here. What made the escape plane I left Claire any different? Alfred most likely had control over that one too! Great. So now we can all be eaten alive together. Better than facing that fate alone, at least.

"Claire," I said, lightly slapping her face. "Wake up!" Her eyes moved underneath her eyelids.

"W…what's going on?" she mumbled sleepily, without opening her eyes.

"Please tell me," I began, "what are you doing here? I thought I left you back at Rockfort so that you could help Steve."

"We made it out," Claire replied, waking from her nap. She tried to move. "What the hell is this?!"

"I don't know … but it's kinda gross." I ran my fingers over the adhesive that had dried, trying to find a way to rip it off Claire. But the protective layer of slime got in the way and I couldn't get a proper grip.

"Use something sharp to cut this cocoon off the wall," she suggested.

"Good idea. I'm gonna go find something back in the computer room. I'll be right back, you just hang tight." She was so weak, the only thing she could do to acknowledge me was a slight nod.

"You're not going anywhere," someone said. It was a beautiful, feminine voice, almost gentle if she wasn't saying it like a bitch. I looked around the staircase, to see a blond woman in a sleeveless, purple dress standing at the main doors. Her hands were covered in white gloves that ran al the way up her arms. She wore a gold necklace with what I could guess as a ruby brooch in the middle, hanging between her collarbones.

"Who are you?" I asked the woman.

"My name is Alexia Ashford," the woman replied with a hint of pride, as if the name would actually mean something to me. "It was the Ashford family that helped establish the Umbrella-"

"Admiral Ashford, is that you?!" I interrupted in astonishment. "I always thought there was a feminine quality about you but …"

"Alfred Ashford is my TWIN brother!" Alexia cried as I bit my lip.

"Oh …"

"And just what do you think you're doing here?"

"We're here on Admiral Ashford's account," I replied simply. "There was a T-Virus leak on his place of command, the Rockfort Facility. And I believe in order to conceal the leak …"

"Yes, I am familiar with Umbrella's policies," Alexia snapped. "In that case, I have no intention of letting you spill the T-Virus and the rest of Umbrella's research to the rest of the world. That's why you're staying here with us … as test subjects for the T-Veronica Virus."

"So is that how you'd like to treat your newest asset?" I asked cockily. Alexia was a pompous bitch, but not even she could afford to risk harming me. "I'm protected by the Umbrella Corporation. Even ask your brother. I have something they want – the Shadow Technology."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

I shrugged. "I don't know exactly what it is either, but sofar, it has allowed me to escape two T-Virus outbreaks by fighting the virus. I am immune."

Alexia snorted. "So you escaped two outbreaks without a trace of the virus in your bloodstream. That's not saying much, seeing as how in order to contract it, you must either breathe it in within the first few minutes of exposure, or get bitten by a carrier. And you're alive, so I doubt you were bitten."

"I was slashed by one of your creations," I said proudly, rolling up my pant leg to reveal the bottom of my scar from the giant worm. I couldn't believe I was actually showing it off like some kind of battle scar. Had I been any average Joe, aware of Umbrella's illegal experiments in biological research, I would've been shot on the spot to destroy any witnesses.

"A likely story," Alexia said, putting her gloved hands on her curvaceous hips.

I went bug-eyed. "It's the truth!" I protested.

"A fictitious tale only a child would be capable of manufacturing."

"W…where the _hell_ have you been, lady?!" I asked in astonishment. "I've been dodging Wesker and Ada this whole time, locked up at the Rockfort facility, just because I've got this bullshit in my body and that I'm so important to Umbrella, and you don't even know what I'm talking about?!"

"Well when you've been cryogenically _frozen_ for the past few years …" she retorted, sounding quite frustrated.

"Excuse me?"

"You fool …" Alexia said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm well aware of Wesker's intentions, and he's coming after me. He wants the T-Veronica virus that I host."

"But …" I said, pointing at her, "you're not some mindless zombie."

"I've been incubating the virus. By freezing my body, the virus manifested itself a lot slower than it would have, had I been active. Otherwise, it would have developed far too quickly for me to handle, thus turning me into a mindless monster."

"What the hell kinda people does Umbrella employ?" I asked myself out loud. Alexia frowned at me, having clearly offended her.

"I am Alexia Ashford from the Ashford family!" she announced proudly.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, finishing her sentence for her, "one of the founding families for Umbrella – the backward company that manufactures aspirins, cough syrups, first aid sprays, and biological weapons of mass destruction – I get it, woman!!"

"It seems I will have to teach you some manners," Alexia replied coldly, her body suddenly transforming before my eyes. I really need to learn when to shut my mouth sometimes. "Suppose I believed your story about the Shadow Technology, do you even think I would care? The abilities of the T-Veronica Virus clearly surpass anything ever created – including your ridiculous technology. My resurrection from being cryogenically frozen with the virus fully at my command will bring the Ashford name back to its former glory. And that means more to me than Umbrella's overrated attention diverted towards you."

Her human skin and clothes peeled back, to reveal a mockery of humanity – a dark gray skin strange tumors protruding from random parts of her body. She still retained her body shape, but she was now anything but attractive. Her hair clumped together to form thick vines protruding from her skull. Alexia began walking menacingly towards me.

"Kenny, get away from her!" Claire shouted from behind the stairs, still stuck onto the wall by that strange cocoon-like material.

Normally I would've jet out of there as fast as my feet could carry me. But to this day, I can't explain why I didn't. I was furious at Alexia for even doubting my father's scientific ability – though I'd never met him in my life. Or perhaps it was my concern for Claire's well being that rooted me to the spot, facing Alexia full on, hiding nothing.

"Bring it, you viral ridden tramp," I sneered. My mind screamed at me. What the hell was I saying? Why was I tempting Alexia to finish me off? I could sense the power emanating from her body. It was like she was no longer human – some kind of demi-goddess about to display her prowess. I heard the sickening slice of skin, and she whipped her hand outward in an arc. I instinctively dodged the trail of blood that followed, seeing it spill onto the carpet. I don't know where I got my courage – or stupidity – from but I cocked an eyebrow at her. "What are you gonna do, bleed on me till I die?" I suppose with her virus infected blood, she could do some decent damage.

Alexia just smiled as the trail of blood erupted into flames, roasting my body with its intense heat. I jumped back to safety, gawking in awe at what she'd just done.

"Fucking bitch!" At this point, my mind was going insane with fear. It was as if I'd lost completely control of my body, like it was acting on its own as if it knew what to do. I jumped through the flames, confronting Alexia so that my nose was only inches from her own. She reeled back, startled, and that's when I punched her – a powerful sock right into her nose.

"Aargh," she grunted, holding her face in one hand. With her other hand, she threw more blood at me, but I dodged again, letting it pass by harmlessly. As I went in for another counter attack, I could feel the heat of the blood behind be as it ignited. I turned my body sideways so that I was perpendicular to her, and brought my right leg up, executing three well placed kicks to her face. Alexia blocked with relative ease, until I surprised her by catching her off her feet with a low roundhouse kick.

She rolled away from my attacks, and stood back up, clearly infuriated with the fact that I would dare lay a finger on an Ashford. But as far as I was concerned, they were a bunch of cross-dressing crazies. It seemed as if the woman was able to read my mind because just as the thought ran through my head, she threw a huge puddle of blood at me. Some of it landed on the jumpsuit I was wearing, and I tried rubbing it off in vain with my hand buried in the sleeve before it ignited. But when it did, I was successful in removing enough so that it only burned a small hole in the fabric from when it landed. How much blood would it take for her to throw so she's bleed to death?

Getting frustrated with the slow moving fight, I withdrew my magnum and took aim, punching a hole in her shoulder. The bullet penetrated her body and came out the other side, but Alexia only took a second to absorb the shock, and continued on her merry way towards me.

"She needs to get close in order to do some real damage," I said quietly to myself. "So all I have to do is keep a decent distance away from her until she bleeds herself to death trying to kill me." It was a long shot and it worked, in theory. But would my plan actually work if it came down to the nitty-gritty? No, I couldn't risk fighting her here, knowing that if she succeeded in catching this whole place of fire, Claire would surely be killed, trapped by the cocoon. I couldn't afford to risk her safety anymore, not when she was completely defenseless like this.

But at the exact moment I lost interest in the fight, so did Alexia, as if we were on the same wavelength. "I would love to continue entertaining you," she said coldly. "But I have some other issues to attend to."

"Don't you lay a finger on Steve!" Claire screamed in protest, but Alexia only let out a hysterical laugh, walking out the front door of the mansion, leaving a trail of fiery blood behind her.

"Claire!" I said, running over to her, trying to pry the cocoon off her body. "Hold still, I'm going to get you out of here."

"No, don't bother with me," Claire protested. "Alexia's going to harm Steve, I know it."

"How did you get separated?!"

"We were on our way out of the base, but something big … I don't know what, but it knocked the vehicle we were traveling in. I was knocked out and when I came to, I was here with you. But when Alexia said something about "test subjects", I knew Steve would share the fate that she had planned for us. You have to stop her Kenny, with whatever it is you have inside your body!"

"I don't even know what I have!" I cried out in frustration. I clasped my hands around the sides of my head.

"Well it worked against Alexia!" Claire said, clinging on to her only hope – me. And I wasn't even so confident in myself. "You may not have beaten her to a pulp, but you were able to repel her and you hardly had to use your weapon. You are a match for her! Please, you're the only one who can save Steve right now!"

"Alright," I said giving in. As much as I didn't like Steve, I didn't feel right about letting him die a torturous death at Alexia's hands. Nobody deserved that. "I'll follow her, and I'll stop her from laying a finger on Steve," I half-heartedly promised. "You don't know where he is? That would save me some time." She shook her head, looking helpless and angry about it. "Okay, don't worry about it, Claire. I'll be back." I patted the cocoon, trying to reassure her and went on my way, running towards the front door of the mansion.

**XXXXX**

I was back out in the strange man-made garden, built far underground. It was hard to see in this lack of light, but I was going to have to manage. I extracted the flashlight from my pocket and turned the thing on, letting the beam scour the room so I could get a good sense of what surrounded me. There was the fake pond, the pair of merry-go-round style horses, the painted clouds on the walls, some fake ferns, a pair of sunglasses set in a dark, shady face …

"Fuck!" I turned around and tried to run but a strong hand grabbed my shoulder.

"You keep struggling if you want to die," came the threat from the mysterious assailant.

"You know I know you can't lay a finger on me, Wesker!" I hissed. With an arrogant shove, Wesker had pushed me into the wall. I collided with my shoulder. Pain exploded through the point of impact and up and down my upper body. I slumped back against the wall and helplessly watched him approach.

"I had made sure with the pilot of your plane to deliver you to the co-ordinates I gave him," he said calmly, as if he'd hardly raised his heartbeat to beat me up. "Instead I find that the Ashford fool sent all the escape planes over to the Antarctic. Not only that, but I also found out that Alexia has awoken from her sleep – long before my estimation. Now in order to take the T-Veronica virus, I will have to confronther personally! You can imagine that I'm very, very pissed off. So I wouldn't push it."

** WHAM!**

He punched me across the face, sending me flying from the wall to having my face carve its own imprint onto the ground. I urged whatever it was … the Shadow Technology to come out again like it had with Alexia. But no such thing happened. I wasn't motivated by anger this time. Alexia legitimately pissed me off with her cockiness. But Wesker's unspoken pride was more intimidating, and this wasn't the first time I encountered him. Did I fear him? I didn't want to admit it, but that could've been it. And thus, that could've been why I wasn't fighting back like the way I had with Alexia. I had to find another way out.

"Y…you have to let me go," I said, pulling myself up from the ground with great effort.

"Oh? And why would I want to do that?"

"I … I'll," I couldn't believe I was saying this.

"How would letting you go, after going great lengths to get you, be beneficial to my cause?" I couldn't see him, but I could feel his breath on my forehead. I couldn't believe his sadism, messing with people's minds before moving in for the kill.

"Alexia Ashford is about to tend to Steve, Claire's friend," I replied. "Before running into you, I was on her tail. I'm not going to let her harm Steve."

"I still don't see how that concerns me."

"I believe I have what it takes to bring her down before she can get to him."

"What do you think it takes?"

"The same thing you're after in me – the Shadow Technology."

Wesker let out a hearty laugh in response to my claims. "This is too good! A showdown between the two forces I've come here for! The Shadow Technology versus the T-Veronica Virus!! It does sound rather tempting indeed, to let you face off against Alexia. But I can't have one wipe out the other. I want you both in once piece."

"I won't kill Alexia – I can't. Killing is not part of my nature. Instead …"

"Instead …?" Wesker asked curiously. I knew I had captured his interest.

"I will bring her to you." I bit my lip. Again, what was I doing, making all these promises I wasn't even sure I could keep. All that mattered to me was fulfilling Claire's wish, that I wouldn't let Steve get hurt.

"Hmmm …" Wesker sat in deep thought, evaluating my offer for a few seconds, probably wondering if he could trust me. I wouldn't blame him for not trusting me. I mean, I'd almost ripped his nose off his face with my teeth, mouthed him off enough times for him to give me a bleeding nose, leaving me to die in the rain on Rockfort … "Very well!" he announced, much to my surprise. "I will let you go after Alexia, and I want her brought back to me!"

Good. So that meant I will let Alexia and Wesker finish each other off while Claire and I escaped this base with Steve. It seemed like a good plan. He seemed to have confidence that I would be able to subdue Alexia, but what made him so sure that I wouldn't kill her against my word? Perhaps he could see the truth behind my claims.

"And if you do not return with Alexia, I will personally hunt down Claire and Steve in this base and execute them with my bare hands. Do I make myself clear?"

I gulped. Shit. He had me in a trap. I had to follow through with my plan – it was our only guaranteed way out of here. Ignoring my conscience that once again screamed at me, this time to stop me from digging myself into a deeper hole, I reached out for Wesker's extended hand, and we shared a brief handshake.

"Crystal." I gulped in realization. I had made a pact with the devil.


	25. Chapter 19: Sadly Mistaken

**Jano** The Shadow Technology won't be coming out quite so soon after its first appearance in this fic. But there will be more of it later, towards the end of the story. About Kenny's reactions towards Jack and Lisa … he's an uptown kid. HHoD described the uptown kid's impressions on Jack and Lisa, and I followed her description as closely as I could – Kenny doesn't like Jack for the wrong reasons. But I never wrote Kenny as a very moral person anyway – he's got his faults like we all do. Hope that clears things up.

**Vertiag** Thank you for your support. And you can bet I'll continue writing this story to the very end.

**E-ZB:** Kenny's alliance with Wesker isn't a legitimate one. You'll find out later in this latest chapter that he's just trying to complicate things between Wesker and Alexia, and then it backfires on him – badly.

**Jojo** I decided to mention the characters from Resident Evil: Project Lucifer because first off, it's a well written story. I don't normally get into stories that are almost 100 original but the way this one story was presented, I dunno, it just really worked for me. Secondly, I could fit it easily into my own story because Kenny goes to the same school as Jack and Lisa. As for Kenny and Alexia's relationship, I somehow think of them as two bickering children. Well Kenny is 15 years old in this fic, And Alexia's been cryogenically frozen since she was 11 years old, which doesn't give her much time to mature. So I figured they'd be at around the same maturity level.

**HHoD** My final copy of the flashback was actually the second one. The first flashback I wrote out, I didn't like it so I deleted it and started from scratch, so I'm glad to see that you approve of it – and the rest of this story too, for that matter! It's definitely flattering, especially from someone who writes like you do. Hope you'll continue to follow this story, and I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for further updates. So yeah, update soon!

I had lost Alexia Ashford. And it was all stupid Wesker's fault. Had he not hindered my efforts, I would've been on the woman in a heartbeat. I looked at where to go next, hardly having moved from the man-made garden. Wesker stood behind me. I could feel his gaze digging into my back – a gaze of utter disappointment. My hands became wet with cold sweat. I've barely begun my jouney and I'm already looking like a fool! Like some kind of amateur!

"So," Wesker said, "you're going to bring Alexia back to me, huh?"

"Well maybe if you didn't stall me for a second back there …"

"I'm starting to doubt your abilities, Kenny."

"Hey!" Okay, I had to think. If I were a crazed woman, cryogenically frozen for the past few years, where would I go? After Steve … right, I got that. But where would Steve be, in this giant maze of a base?

"I'll give you a head start," Wesker offered. "You really look like you could use it."

"Thank you …" I gasped, finally making my frustration obvious.

"There is a prison at the base. And since Alexia has Steve as a prisoner, that would be a pretty good place to check out."

"Where is it?"

"I'm not too familiar with this base myself, but I believe you can get in there by entering the mansion, behind the secret painting that only Umbrella operatives can gain access to."

"How do you know about that?"

"I used to work for Umbrella, you know."

I wasn't sure whether to trust Wesker at that point, but I figured if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't even be this close. "Alright, I'm going."

"Head through the computer room!"

So there I was running back into the mansion. The chilly air of the big empty room got to me once again, making goose bumps sprout all over my arms. My steady footsteps thumped rhythmically on the red plush carpet as I made my way behind the grand staircase to check up on Claire.

She was still trapped in the cocoon, but unconscious this time. Her head hung low, letting her chestnut brown bangs hang over her face. I closed my eyes and touched my forehead against hers. "I'm going now Claire. Stay safe. Don't let me risk my life in vain."

After those few words, it was back up the staircase case and …

"ACCESS GRANTED!!!"

Fuck! Did the stupid computer have to be so damn loud?! With my flashlight piercing the darkness as I ran along, I found myself back in the very same computer room I had made my phone call to Chris in. When was he going to get here? Oh no … How long would it take Chris to realize that Claire isn't on Rockfort, that she's here in the Antarctic with me? Would he die before he found out?

I took a step towards the phone, but then realized that Chris could wait. There were more pressing matters at hand – like Steve's safety. So Wesker said to go through the computer room. There was a small set of stairs leading to a door raised slightly above the floor level. I decided to give the door a try.

I found myself walking through a long hallway. It was narrow enough for me to plant my palms on either sides of the wall, but it was incredibly long. I proceeded down this corridor with caution, hearing my labored breathing echo through the space. It wasn't until I heard the sound of my own breathing when I realized that my heart, too, was beating crazily in my chest, my palms cold yet sweaty at the same time, and my mouth was pasty – like I'd been smoking pot. But I wouldn't know anything about that. These were the telltale signs of nervousness. Suddenly I felt the same way as I did when the whole Umbrella bullshit started, when I first walked down the halls of the Raccoon City Police Precinct during the first hours of my struggle for survival.

I missed those carefree times of being just a regular person caught up in a mess that was never intended for me. I missed my cozy bed that I used to sleep in my rented apartment in uptown Raccoon. I missed my room floor, littered with growing clumps of dirty clothes in every direction. I wanted to smell the sweet scent of dried sweat, the traditional aura of a typical bachelor's pad. I was so caught up in Umbrella's mess that I longed for a regular life again. I wondered if Leon, Claire and everyone else felt the same way … longing for the simple pleasure of life, wondering if they ever got sick of dealing with zombies and crazy people all the time like I was.

And then I got hit in the face, too caught up in my own thoughts to even look at what was in front of me. My body went sailing parallel to the ground until it ran out of trajectory and collided with the carpeted floor a few feet back from where I was standing. I opened my eyes but saw nothing but stars and black patches. Beyond that, it was hard to make out what I was seeing … until my vision came into focus.

A giant plant root … or tentacle had burst through the wall and swatted me away like a fly. This tentacle was about six feet in length – longer than I was tall – and had the circumference of a beach ball, gradually tapering out towards the head. It lay limp on the ground after striking me, so I decided to approach it again, slowly this time. The moment I came within five feet of the thing, it stirred and raised itself from "sleep". The damn thing wasn't going to let me pass. But I wasn't about to settle for that. One shot from my magnum and it screamed like a little girl, withdrawing back into the wall. Yeah – the thing _screamed. _Like it had feelings or something. Meh, whatever, so did I but it still didn't have any problems bashing me. I continued through the door at the end of the hallway.

"Get the hell away from me, you sick bitch!" Somebody was screaming desperately. There was no anger in the voice, only horror. My eyes scanned the surrounding area, trying to get a sense of where the voice was coming from. Along my left, there were prison cells lined up but they were all empty. Beyond those was a set of stairs leading up to the left, where an antique cannon sat gathering dust. To my right, there was a single green door beside yet another cell that –

"Help me, someone!" the voice cried again. It was Steve! "Argh!!" The latter cry was one of pure agony.

"Steve, I'm coming!" I yelled, pushing the green door open. I prayed that my hearing was acute enough to accurately locate the source of his screams. The green metal door wouldn't budge.

"Please state your personal identification …"

"Rockfort 16320!!" I cried with desperation against the cold, feminine voice that someone had chosen for the computer.

"Access granted!" Yeah, that's great. I didn't care. I just wanted in before Steve ran out of time. There was another door, in the empty brick room beyond the green one that I just pushed my way through. My first impression was to gape in awe at what this new room displayed. It was huge, dark and gray. There was a single path in the centre of the room that led to the wall on the other side, lined by creepy suits of armor. I'd seen horror movies before, and those things had a really bad habit of coming to life and using their weapons to chop their victims to pieces. Well, I realized those were the movies and this was real life and … and I suppose zombies only exist in horror movies as well? Screw it. I ran for my dear life between the armor suits towards the end of the room, where I suddenly saw Steve.

He looked horrible. He had on the same clothes he was wearing when I saw him on Rockfort – green slacks and a black button up short sleeved shirt over a yellow undershirt. He sat limp in a regular wooden chair with his head leaning forward, facing the ground so that I couldn't see his face through his bangs. Keeping him the seat as a large wooden pole positioned across his chest. And on one end of the pole was a giant axe blade, half of it embedded into the concrete wall! The blade was big enough to behead me like a chopper could cut off a chicken's head. Suddenly, I felt very vulnerable. Nonetheless, I approached Steve cautiously.

"H … hey buddy," I said, whispering quietly, "are you alright?"

Steve looked up, not without some effort. His eyes were glazed over, as if his soul had been sucked right out of his body. His forehead gleamed with sweat. I could see where the tears had streaked down his face from his eyes. He wasn't crying anymore, but the streaks were still moist, judging from the way they reflected the dim lighting. "K … Kenny …" he said weakly. "You're … here?"

"I'm gonna get you out of here," I offered. Wrapping my arms over the giant pole, I put one foot against the wall and began to pull with all my might. After a few seconds of hopeless straining, I decided to try and remove the giant axe from nearer towards the head – it was the blade after all that kept in embedded into the wall. But there was still no luck. I felt sorry for Steve as my breath blew mercilessly at his face, as I grunted heavily, straining with every fiber of being in my body to get the damned thing unstuck from the wall.

Steve then looked up at me tiredly. The colors from his eyes were gone. They were glazed over, staring blankly at me. "What?" I asked. "My breath isn't THAT bad, is it?"

"You've gotta get outta here," he said, completely in contrast to his initial reaction to my presence.

"You just said …" I trailed off. I realized then that he wasn't looking at me. The reason his eyes looked so distant was because he was staring at something else … _past _my shoulder. I spun around quickly to face the stranger.

"You really have a deathwish, don't you, boy?" Alexia asked with her gloved arms folded tightly across her bosom. He had morphed back into her human form. It was much easier on the eyes than her other form, the mockery of anything humanoid.

"I have a proposition for you," I said, meeting her gaze.

She raised an eyebrow. One corner of her luscious lips lifted. "And what can _you_ offer me?" she asked, more out of amazement than anything.

"You know why Wesker is here, right?"

"I believe it was me who told you."

"Do you think he's worthy of the T-Veronica Virus?"

Alexia scoffed. "That sunglasses donning fool?"

"And he sure as hell isn't worthy of the Shadow Technology either." Alexia rolled her eyes at my comment, but I continued. "He's making a big mistake by coming after either of us in the first place. We're more than he can handle individually. And to think he's got the audacity to come after both of us at once…"

"He is rather full of himself, I'll agree with you there."

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm aching to give that insult to fashion a lesson. He's not afraid to deck a kid, so do you think he would have the class to keep his hands off a lady like you? Let alone a lady of the Ashford family…" God, am I sly or WHAT?!?! Using her name with such honorific connotations? Umbrella would want be either way, with or without the Shadow Technology!

"You have a mouth that would earn you a few slaps," Alexia stated blatantly, "regardless of who they are delivered by. I'm not fond of you, boy, but you have a point to your bantering. With the T-Vernoica Virus on my side, Wesker isn't so much a threat as he is a pest – one who is just begging to be eliminated. To think that he would even consider coming close to my family's work and using it for his own selfish needs …"

"Disgusting, I tell you," I added for effect. "Shall we deliver him from his pointless existence together?"

"I don't need you," she spat at me. "Though, if you want a piece of Wesker, you're going to have to fight me as well. You may have helped me see the truth but beware, this action does in no way affect my plans for you – to be a test subject of my virus."

"I would be so honored." Alexia gave me a funny look before walking out of the hallway, the clicking of her high heel shoes fading as she got farther and farther away.

I turned back to Steve. "I've got Alexia and Wesker in for a fight now, Steve," I said. "While they kill each other, Claire, you and me will get out of here. Everything's gonna be alright."

Steve shook his head in protest. "No …" he said. "I'm infected."

"What?!" I cried taking a step back.

"She injected something inside me … I … I think it's the virus."

"You're not gonna turn into some kind of monster. You have to fight it." I tried coaxing to fight the virus but who was I kidding? It turned everyone in Raccoon City into the undead, regardless or race, sex or religion. Steve wouldn't be any different. But still, maybe if I gave him some hope, however false it may be, it would be better than nothing prior to dying.

"Please, Kenny," he asked modestly, all the dignity he boasted from our first meeting completely sucked out of him. "I'm just a lab rat now. But you and Claire … you guys have a chance to get out of here. Don't waste your time on a lost cause like me."

"Steve …" Now I was starting to feel like a real jerk for even considering letting him die on Rockfort Island.

"Go … _now …_" his last word came out as an exasperated whisper.

**XXXXX**

"Alexia Ashford!" Wesker cried with a suppressed glee. "You're coming with me!" He stood at the bottom of the grand staircase in the main hall of the underground mansion, the plush red carpet soaking up the bottom of his dark combat boots. I soon joined Alexia at her side on the landing, staring down condescendingly at Wesker. What a sight we must've been – Alexia in with a modest white headband in her straight, silky blonde hair, a sleeveless purple gown and elegantly gloved arms. And then there was me, in a tanned mechanic jumpsuit from the escape plane with my pajamas underneath. Wesker then shot me a glance.

"You kept your promise," he said sounding quite impressed. "You brought Alexia to me."

"It didn't take much convincing," I replied. "After all, you need to be taught that you just can't get whatever you want." Wesker looked up at me beyond the rims of his sunglasses.

"Is that a challenge, Kenny?"

Alexia was the first to descend the flight of stairs, her body once again morphing into that sick, twisted gray plant-like human being. She threw a stream of her flammable blood at Wesker, who promptly dodged the drops. Now that she wasn't flinging her combustible bodily fluids at me, I have to admit that it was a beautiful sight to behold. The dark red drops fanned out in midair in an elegant fashion, some of them bursting into a ball of fire before they even made contact with the ground. It was like a synchronized dance performed by a group of fireflies …

After dodging Alexia's Alexia's fire, Wesker jumped in the air and countered her attack with a solid punch of his own. I stood there with my mouth gaping open. I've experienced battle with Wesker before, and he seemed inhumanly fast. But I sort of always passed that off as me being in the heat of the battle, not as an actual fact. But even when I wasn't engaging him in combat, I could see now that he definitely wasn't human anymore. My first clue was that set of reptilian eyes he had but this … this was confirmation.

As Wesker was recovering from the move that he struck Alexia with, I prepared to jump into battle, feeling confident as ever that we would emerge victorious if Alexia and I teamed up against him. The thought of us fighting each other at a later battle did cross my mind, but only for an instant. Right now, I just wanted to see Wesker squirm in defeat, I wanted to see his ridiculous ego crushed.

It was only a split second before I dashed off bravely into battle, having my target set right between Wesker's eyes when I felt a single arm wrap easily around my waist and a hand cover my mouth tightly – so tight that I found it hard to breathe. I was yanked off my feet with relative ease by the mysterious assailant and mercilessly thrown onto the cold floor behind the stairs, out from Alexia and Wesker's views. Pain exploded from the back of my head, having collided with the stone flooring. I saw stars for a brief moment as I attempted to pick myself up from the ground.

But the attacker lifted me to my feet effortlessly by grabbing the collar of my jumpsuit with a single arm and slammed me against the back of the staircase … into a strange cocoon like substance. Hey ... the cocoon had been cut open and Claire wasn't here anymore. As my vision adjusted, I could see Chris looking straight into my eyes – and he wasn't happy. I caught sight of some blood that stained his pant leg from within. For someone with what looked like a bad injury, he moved pretty well.

"Chris?" I asked in confusion – not sure whether it was him or not, and if it was, why did he look like he wanted to kill me?

"Don't you fucking act all innocent with me!" he sneered in a quiet whisper, trying to keep his voice out of Alexia and Wesker's hearing range.

"What are you …" I winced as he slammed me back into the wooden staircase backing for a second time.

"You're co-operating with Umbrella," he said. "I heard everything."

My eyes widened in shock. Was that what he gathered from overhearing that five second meeting? "No, no, you're wrong," I protested, but I was quickly silenced when he brought a wicked looking hunting knife to my throat.

"One wrong move, Kenny," Chris said, his cold blue eyes never faltering from my fearful expression, "and it's all over for you. The S.T.A.R.S. unit is officially defunct, along with our moral obligations to the job. Don't think I won't do it."


	26. Chapter 20: Abominations

"Stop, you're making a big mistake." That's what my mind was screaming. It was what I wanted to say to Chris, to knock some sense into him. But then it also occurred to me that Chris never solved anything with words. Not only has Jill told me that a few times back at the precinct, but I've actually seen the guy hit criminals with smart mouths. Chris Redfield was not lacking in the strength department, but the concept of reason was almost Greek to him. And I'll admit I was scared. The guy had half a foot on me and was easily twice my weight. The smart choice would've been to co-operate and not provoke him. But … I guess brains wasn't something I had an abundance of either.

Chris had me pinned to the wall with a single arm wrapped tightly around my throat. I wrapped both my hands around his wrist and used his arm as leverage. Pulling my lower body upwards, I hooked my left leg around his arm, using it for balance, and kicked his face with my right, embedding my heel into his nose. Chris cried out in pain and released me. I fell painfully to the ground, but at least he was suffering as much as I was, if not more.

He staggered to his feet, as I did the same. Chris gave me a look of death, like he was ready to rip me to shreds – and then he lunged at me, football-tackle style. He hunched over with his arms open, ramming his shoulder into my abdomen. Using his weight and momentum from the collision, I flipped over his charging form and landed relatively unhurt behind him. Chris turned around to face me and threw a punch which I blocked with ease, though the sheer strength of the impact sent vibrations through my body.

He followed up with a left hook aimed for my right temple, but I ducked under the arc of his swing. As his forearm passed over my head, I grabbed it, and planted a solid right knee into his ribs. Chris doubled over from the strike, clutching at his side, giving me another window to move. Without regaining my balance from the knee strike, I kicked out my leg and smashed Chris's face against my foot. The collision sent blood flying.

I instinctively pulled out my magnum and pointed it at him. But no sooner did I aim the firearm had he kicked it from my grasp, following with a ferocious back fist swing that connected with my cheek, almost knocking the consciousness from me.

I realized then that I had to avoid his strikes at all costs. I could fight Chris and deal some decent damage. But he could absorb my hits a lot better than I could take his. But I didn't have the time to think up a new strategy because the magnum, having been kicked from my hand made a loud clang as it hit the floor, giving off a shot. The offending noise caught Wesker's and Alexia's attentions.

"Chris!" Wesker called with surprise, peeking around the corner towards where we stood. "Well, since you're one of my best men, I'll let you handle this."

What the hell was Wesker talking about? Chris and I were already about to get into a scrap when … no … Wesker wasn't talking about me. He was talking about Alexia! She began walking menacingly towards Chris. There was little I could to do intervene at this point. Chris turned around to face me, cursing me mentally for my perceived betrayal.

I shook my head, denying to the death that I had turned my back on the S.T.A.R.S. But he paid me no heed as he just as quickly turned his back on me and began firing at Alexia. But I couldn't pay any attention to their battle. How could I? My only hope of escaping this Antarctic base had just been crushed with Chris thinking I had backstabbed him. But he had to understand that I was only doing it to destroy Wesker and to give Claire and Steve a chance to get out of here. I didn't blame him for what he thought – I would've thought the same thing had I only just witnessed the conversation between Wesker, Alexia, and myself. But how was I going to convince him? I guess kicking him in the face wasn't exactly a good idea either …

I gingerly reached for the magnum I'd dropped and decided to go find Claire. I looked at the two of them, gauging whether Chris could handle himself alright in this fight. Hey wait a second, where did Wesker disappear off to? Whatever, I had no time to worry about that. Deciding that Chris had a gun and Alexia was armed with … well … flammable blood, Chris was going to make it out okay. I ran around the fight, carefully avoiding Alexia, and hoisted myself up onto the landing of the stairs.

Instead of heading through the painting – I knew Claire wasn't there because I'd just come from that direction – I decided to try hanging a right, up to where there was a break in the flight of stairs. What had happened there? I looked down, through the gap and noticed a pile of rubble – right where Chris was hiding before he snagged me. And then that gash on his leg … was he hurt when the stairs gave out? There would be a time and place for these questions, and now was not it.

There was a door on the second level and all that separated me from it was the giant gap in the flight of stairs. Taking a deep breath, I gathered all my strength and leap for the other side, arms extended fully in front of me. My upper body made it, as my fingers clawed for a good grip on the carpet. My chest collided with the cement, knocking the wind out of me, digging into my chest. It felt like the jagged rock was going to put a nice set of holes in my torso. Biting my lip to endure the pain, I pulled myself up onto the landing with some difficulty. I took a short rest before standing up to open to the door.

By then, Chris had successfully fended off Alexia, just as I had predicted. Her body lady in a pool of her own blood as Chris stood victoriously over her, reaching for a brooch she wore around her neck. I noticed it for the first time.

"Chris?" I called from the upper level of the mansion. He looked back up at me, the expression of pure hate never leaving his face. "It's not what you think it is," I said, gulping back a wad of spit. "I've never sided with Umbrella."

"That's a bold statement," he spat back, "after everything I just heard. How could you, Kenny? How _could_ you? Fighting for Umbrella's cause is one thing, but then lying to me about it? After I came all the way here for you?"

"I know what it looked like," I replied.

"That's good, cause I'd _really_ like to hear how you're plan on explaining that little conversation!"

"I formed sort of an alliance with Wesker."

"You're not helping your cause, kiddo."

"Just listen!" I snapped. Chris didn't speak, the silence telling me to continue. "I was after Alexia because she was going to do something to Steve. To prevent her from harming him, I went after her but Wesker got in the way. Since he was after her too, I struck a deal with him to let me go find Alexia and I'd bring her to him."

"That doesn't explain how you so willing teamed up with Alexia against Wesker. Alexia is still with Umbrella, and technically, so are you. Your co-operation with her was enough to convince me that you had switched sides."

"You also don't know that I was trying to get the both of them to fight each other, so Claire, Steve and I would have enough time to escape from this base!"

Chris remained silent for a brief moment. He broke eye contact with me and stared at the ground. After a few seconds of silence, he managed a pathetic, "Oh." If only he'd listened to me from the start, there wouldn't be this weird moment, time that would be better spent working together to find a way out of this place. "I guess … I owe you an apology."

"None necessary," I said. "I don't blame you for thinking what you did, but man … you really pack a punch!" I rubbed the blossoming bruise at the back of my head.

"I … didn't hurt you much, did I?" Chris asked, biting his lower lip nervously.

"Nah, I'm fine," I called back, smirking. "I'd be more worried about my nose if I were you. Nothing personal, I was just trying to defend myself …"

"Already forgot about it," Chris said, giving a thumbs up. "Let's just try to find Claire and a way out of here."

"Okay, I'll take this upper door and you take the other …"

"I'm way ahead of you," he replied, running out the front door of the underground mansion. Getting up to my feet, I finally tried the door.

**XXXXX**

Would you believe that this door led back to that very same hallway in which the giant plant tentacle swatted me like a fly? Probably not. Umbrella's bases were giant mazes of corridors and secret rooms. Rockfort was no exception.

I had just come from this area of the base, where the prisoners were held. I knew that Claire wasn't in the area. But I wanted to check up on Steve. I didn't feel right just leaving him there to die, even though he already told me to. Then again, it didn't feel right either looking out for Steve, who already had the virus in him, and forgetting about Claire who was probably on her own and looking for a way out. It was a lose/lose situation.

As I debated who to look for in my head, my feet carried me back to the jail. Well, since I was here, I might as well have a look at Steve to make sure he was alright … not that he was going to be anytime soon. I don't know what drove me to go back to see him that day, because all reason pointed to looking for Claire – she was my ticket out of the place. But I'm glad I went to Steve.

I entered the green door that led to the large chamber, lined with medieval armor, where he was kept. And then I heard screaming.

"Claire!" I cried through the darkness.

"Kenny, we have to get out of here!"

"What are you talking …" And then I saw it. It's monstrous, hunched form chasing Claire. It looked like one of Umbrella's Bio-Organic Weapons, the Hunter. It was frog-like in appearance with its hunched stature and green skin. The creature moved with magnificent speed wielding what looked like a giant axe. Shit! Was that the same axe embedded in the wall that I had no success removing? It was the giant weapon that kept Steve trapped? Where was Steve? He was injected with the virus – could it have turned him into this monster?!

"Kenny, move it!" Claire ordered. The creature was only a few feet behind her. It did a very good job of keeping up with her. I looked up and saw a set of metal bars coming down from the ceiling. If Claire could make it through before they closed … I had to help her.

"Come on, Claire! I'm not leaving here without you!" The bars were about halfway down from the two storey ceiling now, moving at a steady pace. The monster swung its giant axe at her, and the impact connected with her upper back, knocking Claire forward. Fortunately, she was within the arc of the swing and was hit by the handle, rather than the blade. I drew my magnum and fired at the monster, giving some time for her to escape. "Get up, I've got the creature!"

"No!" she raised her hand signaling for me to stop. "It's Steve!" So my suspicions were correct. And suddenly, I felt guilty for firing at the creature. Steve already went through so much torture before he transformed into this creature. But I suppose that was just a prelude for things to come as I now stood there shooting at him with one of the world's most powerful handguns.

"He's not Steve anymore! Now get over here before he kills you!" Do I know how to talk when adrenaline hits me, or what?!

Claire got up and dashed the last few feet towards the exit, sliding underneath the bars as they came down to the ground not a second later with a loud clang, separating the monster from us. Claire winced as she struggled to her feet.

"Are you alright?"

"The bottom of the bars skinned my back as I went under them," she explained. "But I think I'll be alright."

Just then, the monster threw itself at the bars, like a wild caged animal. Claire and I jumped back in shock. It rammed its body over and over again into the bars. Each time it's solid green body came into contact with them, I could hear them creak a little more, each time sending a small shower of dusty debris down from the ceiling above.

"Quick," I said, "get to the door."

"Steve," Claire whispered, holding her hand to her face. She was crying, too caught up at the sight of the teenager she'd grown to love, turned into this hideous beast. "I'll get Alexia for you …"

"Not if he gets you first!" I snapped, "Now help me get this door open!"

** CR-RACK!!**

A portion of the cement wall had broken, spilling forth frozen Antarctic soil and a giant plant tentacle! It was the same tentacle that had swiped me earlier in the underground mansion! What was it doing here? Was there more than one of them? Where did it come from? There were so many questions, all of them to be unanswered as it came after me. The ghastly abomination of a plant root wrapped itself around my body and pinned me to the wall from which it spouted forth. A second one shot through the opposite wall, entering the room like a coiled snake, and snatched Claire off her feet, holding her a few inches off the ground.

"Kenny!" she screamed, tugging against the grip of the tentacles. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I replied. "I … I don't get it. Do these things just plan on holding us here or what?" A good few seconds had ticked by without any movement from the strange tentacles, a very sharp contrast to their swift movements and lightning speed they displayed mere moments before.

The monster that used to be Steve crashed its body against the bars again, and finally swung its axe right through them, creating a small tear. The creature bent the bars outwards with its bare hands and created an opening big enough for it to step through.

"Shit …" I whispered, too shocked and scared to say anything else.

The creature wasted no time on me, stepping straight towards Claire, giant axe in hand, sneered menacingly at her – its nose just over an inch away from hers.


	27. Interlude: Diary of Kevin Ryman

October 3rd, 1998

I don't know how many people escaped Raccoon City besides the seven other lucky survivors that left with me. One thing is for sure though. Whoever managed to elude the virus did so in vain. The city was nuked this morning É not that it should come as any surprise. We can't have "radio active waste" spilling out into neighboring cities. Radioactive waste? I love how the media twists words. It was a fucking virus straight out of a horror movie. Yet even after all the crimes Umbrella Corp. has committed, the government still helps them cover their tracks. There's seriously something wrong with this country. And I doubt we've seen the last of that organization.

They've taken everything from me Ð my home, my job, my possessions É everything. How's a guy to start a new life when I've got no base to build upon? The others aren't as pessimistic, though. I'll admit it isn't like me to be this depressed either. But maybe I should just be thankful I even escaped in the first place.

Cindy Lennox, she's that cute waitress from J's Bar. She was the one that helped prevent me from collapsing into an emotional heap while we rode away in the copter, as we watched those three missiles annihilate the city. She put her hand on my shoulder and that's when I almost lost it. She let me cry into her shoulder. I think I must've soaked that pretty blue striped waitress uniform good. Listen to me, a veteran police officer crying like a baby.

Tomorrow, I'll start searching for other survivors. I don't know why that's even important to me Ð what should be important is that I'm capable of rebuilding my life. But somehow, it would be that much easier if I had some companionship. I know I can count on Cindy to be there. And Dr. George Hamilton, he was a pretty good guy too, constantly healing us by making medicines with whatever he could find. Rebecca Chambers, the rookie S.T.A.R.S. chemist, could learn a thing or two from Dr. Hamilton. I haven't seen Mark Wilkins the security guard, David King the plumber, Jim Chapman the train conductor, or Yoko that cute scientist since we parted ways when the copter dropped us off at a neighboring city. And Alyssa Ashcroft Ð I hope I never seen that heinous bitch again. Well no, she had a good heart, I could see that. But she also that hard edge almost every journalist has. I don't hate her, but I never want to see her again, that's for sure.

It was weird, though, last night, just after the missiles hit. As I was riding out of the city, I saw a little car chase. The strange thing was, it was between two civilian cars. I was too tired to figure out what was going on at the time, but I managed to catch sight of two very familiar looking people. In a little run-down car, a middle-aged driver was behind the wheel. He had a stern face, looking like it had seem some pretty gruesome sights in his life. Beside him in the passenger seat Ð I don't want to get my hopes up Ð was someone who looked like Leon Kennedy, a friend of mine who just got hired at the R.P.D. before it was nuked.

The vehicle being chased was a white van with an Asian woman behind the wheel. And in the passenger side sat who I thought was Kenneth Feng, the work experience volunteer at the Precinct. It looked like he was being taken hostage or something, because he had a blindfold over his eyes É I wonder how he could be useful to someone to the point where they'd kidnap him. He's just a kid trying to get a good start to a career in law. I tried giving chase to see if I could help, but then I realized I was in no position to fight, especially after my ordeal. I could just leave the situation in Leon's hands. I wasn't even sure if it was them anyway. Even still, if a kidnapping was in place, is it not my job to interfere? Was I even a police officer anymore, since my office was gone, my boss and my co-workers dead, and my license in ashes?

Technically, I could've let them be and continue living my life as a citizen of the United States without ever bearing responsibility. But É my heart disagrees. That's it É tomorrow is a new day. I will continue searching for other survivors. Most importantly, I have to find out if it really was Leon and Kenny, and if they are alright. I don't think my mind will let me rest until I find out just what happened to them É whether it was them or not I saw that night.

Damn, I need some sleep.


	28. Chapter 21: One Last Hurdle

**Author's Note:**I would like to let my wonderful reviewers know that it will be my birthday on October 26, this Tuesday, and that I am now accepting gifts. Cash and/or checks taken in by snail mail only. I'm a little depressed at this point, because I will be turning 21. And that means I have only 2 days left of my youth. Oh no wait … it's past midnight. I have ONE day left of youth! On a more serious note, here is my birthday present to all of you! I am going to upload (God, I hope I follow up with my promise) a new chapter for all my current fanfiction projects, starting with this one.

"Biohazard: World of the Undead" will be completed in two chapters. I want to take the time now to thank everyone who's reviewed so far and kept me going strong. It was your reviews that made me continue the story, when it was at an INCREDIBLY weak start. And now, somehow, out of all my fanfictions, this story seems to be the most popular. So thank you, everyone, again!

**Lost Survivor: **I told you once, and I will tell you again. I have no intention of using someone else's ideas because I wouldn't want to take someone's creative juice and use it for my benefit. What you've suggested sounds like it would make a very good story. And from a practical point of view, I can't add it to this story because it's about to close. And at the moment, I have not planned for a sequel to this story either. I would like to see you use this idea to make your own story – and I can guarantee you I will be following and reviewing from beginning to end. Thanks for your support and your appreciation for this story.

**Emma: **It hasn't been THAT long since you last reviewed, has it?

**Bianca: **Thanks for letting me know I'm doing a good job sofar!

**Yue**** Michiru: **Well, there were the eight civilians that survived from RE: Outbreak. Oh yeah, Claire, Leon and Sherry too. None of them had any special training. Sherry was a kid, Claire was a college student, and Leon and Kevin were just regular police officers.

**Jano**Yeah, I thought Kenny convincing Chris went by a little short. Chris is famous for being on the slower side, so realistically, it would've taken Kenny a lot longer. But in order to expand the conversation, I would've had to get Chris to ask some intelligent questions. And that would just make him out of character. I'm in a little rut here.

**Angel: **Thanks for your support!

**Blizzard Dragon: **King of RE fics? Um … nervous laughter that's quite a daring statement, don't you think? Just don't tell any of the other talented RE authors on ;)

**Jojo**Lol, yeah, Kenny's been in trouble from the start.

**XXXXX**

Oh god … I closed my eyes tightly and faced the ground. Whatever that monster planned on doing to Claire, I knew it wasn't going to be pretty. There she was, wrapped tightly in that mutant tentacle, suspended feet in the air, her head and shoulders vulnerable to the hulking creature that stood before her. In its hands, it held that giant axe with a blade large enough to behead a person as if they were a chicken. My heart leapt into my throat – I'd never seen anyone die right in front of me before, even after surviving the Raccoon disaster. Back there, those I ran into who were alive stayed that way or died when I was out of the picture. I'd never seen a person transform into a zombie, I only saw zombies and people. This … was a first.

I could hear Claire's incessant pleas for mercy and there was nothing I could do to curb her fears.

"Just close your eyes," I whispered, not even sure if she could hear me. "It'll be over soon, and I'll be right behind you."

"No, Steve," Claire sobbed, but her words fell upon deaf ears.

Suddenly, I felt the light brush of air from the sharp falling blade. I expected Claire to scream, but instead I heard nothing. At least the move was quick, and she didn't suffer. But … where was the spray of blood I was expecting to feel?

I opened my eyes and saw Claire on the ground – in once piece. The monstrous tentacle however … half of it lay on the ground while the remaining bit swung around wildly, retracting into the wall as it spilled its juices everywhere. On the floor, Claire stirred.

Almost simultaneously, the secondary tentacle that held me released me, allowing me to fall to the ground. I half expected it to do that, as I landed on my feet instead of on my ass. It dashed at the creature that was Steve, and knocked it against the wall. Given the way the monster flew in the air and crashed into the wall, you would've never guessed that the creature loomed almost two feet over our heads and probably three times the combined weight of Claire and me. It landed in a heap of pain on the ground, both tentacles having retracted into the wall by then.

"Are you …"

"I'm fine," Claire replied quickly. "But Steve …" We both approached the monster, noticing that the green hue in its skin was fading, its body shrinking.

"Is he …"

Claire went up to him and put her hand on her face. They began whispering to each other, sharing some kind of intimate moment and I knew I wasn't a part of. Whatever happened between the two of them, it had to have been intense, given the short amount of time they had to get acquainted. I backed off into the corner on the opposite end of the room, giving them as much space and privacy as I could.

I put my hands to my ears, knowing that Steve was about to die. And I didn't want to watch. We started off on the wrong foot, and I don't think I liked him even at that point, but I sure felt sorry for him though. He wasn't a whole lot older than me – by about two years. And I couldn't think of myself perishing in one of Umbrella's disasters, even though I've come close on more than one account. But this was Steve's only shot at escaping Umbrella's grasp – and he failed. Yeah, I felt horrible for him, alright.

I knew it was over for Steve, I knew he was gone when Claire started sobbing uncontrollably. She just sat here, resting her head on his naked shoulder, crying and crying. I debated with myself on whether or not I should try going over and comforting her, or perhaps letting her have this moment to herself and let out all her emotions. In the end, I did nothing …

**XXXXX**

I don't know how much time passed with me just sitting there, and Claire crying. It felt like a brief moment, but logically, an eternity could've passed. I just don't remember. However long it took, the only thing I can say was that those moments were charged with emotional silence … just pain and sorrow, really. But the tense moment was broken by Chris's authoritative voice.

"Claire, are you there?" But she was too wrapped up in her emotions to register what was going on.

"She's fine," I replied.

"Kenny, you're here too! Are you both …"

"The doors are locked, Chris," Claire said.

"Hold on, I'll get you guys out!" I heard some struggling, and some thumping. "It's no use. The door won't budge!"

"Here." Claire approached the door and took something out of her pocket. It was small, and white … "Use this to engage the self destruct sequence. It should unlock all the doors to the facility." She slid it under the small gap of the door.

I stared at her wide eyed, as she smiled back at me. "How on earth did you get that …"

"I saw it in a crystal ball," she replied smartly, seemingly enjoying my confusion.

"Alright, I got it!" Chris said. "You two sit tight. I'll be back to get you in a bit." I heard his footsteps scurry off.

"Is he always this protective?" I asked Claire.

She sighed. "Yeah …"

"I see."

"Chris has been this way for as long as I've known him. He seems to get a kick out of being the big brother. You know, protecting the weaker, more defenseless people. The bullies learn not to mess with him or me either. Because if they do …"

"I know what that feels like," I said, rubbing the back of my head.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just a bump." Claire's pretty face turned into a frown. "What did he do to you, Kenny?"

"He thought I sided with Umbrella, because I pretended to side with Alexia to buy time for you and Steve to get out of here. But then he caught me and … well …"

"But didn't you explain it to him?"

"I tried but …"

"That is _SO_ like him, I have no choice but to believe your story. I'm sorry he acted so brashly without even listening."

"It's alright," I replied, "just a little misunderstanding, that's all."

"It's just Chris doesn't take it very lightly when he believes he's been backstabbed by someone he trusts. It was like that with Wesker, and now, with you as well."

"Chris … trusted me?" I couldn't believe what Claire was saying. It came as a total shock.

Claire responded with a blank stare. "So … he came all the way here to get WHO exactly?"

"Gee, I dunno," I replied, reflecting her sarcasm right back at her, "YOU?!"

She put her hand softly on my shoulder. "He thought I was at Rockfort. He knew you were here. It was just convenient that I followed you here. Now we just have to get it through Chris's thick head that you're really on our side."

"I already told him everything," I said.

"Good. So …" she twirled a lock of her chestnut brown hair around her finger. "We can all leave like one big happy family, I guess."

"Not with Admiral Ashford up and about," I countered. "He understands that I'm Umbrella's property. He's not going to let me go that easily …"

"Alfred's dead," Claire said, the strength of her voice melting away my worries.

"Are you sure?"

"Nobody could've survived that fall."

"How did you …"

"Steve and I pushed him off the edge of a really big hole. It took a few seconds for us to hear his body hit the bottom."

"That's amazing," I said. "OH! So that's why Alexia wants us dead! She wants her revenge!"

"I don't doubt it. And if Chris doesn't get us out of here soon, she just might get it."

Our conversation was interrupted by the whirring of alarms. The entire room suddenly glowed a dim red. It seemed that all Umbrella facilities were equipped with the same stereotypical alarm system. A cool, feminine voice sounded over an unseen speaker system installed throughout the complex.

"The self destruct system has been activated," it called, "repeat, the self destruct system has been activated. This system cannot be aborted …" It was the very same mechanical recording I heard about three months ago. For an instant, I was transported back to Raccoon City, as Billy and I were running for our lives out of that endless tunnel that lead out of the city.

The cold wind was blowing in our faces, chilling us both to the bone. But that same wind was a sign of fresh air – air that circulated into the city from the outside. And we knew that was our way out of there. The gravel crunched underfoot, the gently blowing wind gradually turned into a horrifying howl, as if the demons from the hell we were escaping weren't going to let us go without a fight.

And I hoped that this time, it would be different. I hoped that same tunnel would be there, only without that giant humanoid monster in a trench coat stalking us. I hoped there wouldn't be any giant worms with razor sharp teeth hoping to snack on my leg, or any huge men with melting faces toting a giant rocket launcher. The strange memories of Raccoon flashed through my mind – the decaying zombies smashing their decomposing fists on the windows back at the police precinct, the strange skinless creatures with exposed brains that tore a hole in the car like it was a cheap aluminum can, meeting Jill and Carlos at the clock tower, that stupid bitch, Ada …

And this was going to be the last of it. Something was telling me that. This was the very last hurdle of my three month ordeal, starting back at the R.P.D. precinct, when my only objective was to find a gun and not worry about bullshit technology inside my body, mutated tentacles smashing through walls, cross dressing twins, and just crazy, creepy S.T.A.R.S. captains that are supposed to be dead.

"Yes!" Claire cried, pumping her fist into the air. "I knew the doors would unlock!" She ran through, with my trailing shortly behind her. "Now we just have to find Chris!" Could this be true? All we had to do was find Chris, get into whatever vehicle he used to get here, and leave this Antarctic hell for good? It seemed almost too easy.

We ran out of the room, leaving Steve's body behind, bidding my last farewell to him mentally. We sprinted through the hallway with jail cells lining either side, hung a right, and up a long flight of metallic staircases into a giant cylindrical room that looked vaguely familiar … I looked up and immediately saw the platform that the aircraft pilot and I entered the facility through.

The stairs led to a grated platform, about ten by twenty feet, I'd guess. Directly opposite where the stairs met the platform was a door, in front of which Chris now stood, waving his hand around like a mad man.

"You've gotta go! Get out of here!" he ordered the both of us.

"But Chris …" Claire began, but started trailing off.

And then I saw it too. It was Alexia, back in her mutant form, walking menacingly towards Chris. Having caught her attention, she skulked towards us, walking elegantly like a model on a runway – only slower. She threw her arm outward, and her flammable blood formed a wall of fire between us and Chris.

"Don't you fucking come closer," I said, raising my magnum. I pulled the trigger, the hollow click of the empty gun multiplying exponentially in my ears. "No …"

There was a gunshot and the mutant Alexia suddenly keeled over in pain. "Get to the plane! Both of you!"

I was the first one who turned around and began heading down the stairs. Then I noticed Claire wasn't following. I looked over my shoulder and caught her standing there, as if she hadn't even moved – and I'm willing to be that she hadn't.

"Claire!" I shouted. "What the hell are you waiting for?!"

"You have to make it, Chris," she said, before running back down the stairs to join me.

We sprinted back through the jail cell hallway, noting an emergency elevator. "I'm betting this will take us to the hangar," I said.

"How do you know?" Claire asked.

"Cause when I got here, I entered that room from a hangar," I replied, pointing to the room we just exited from. "There was a walkway right beside an emergency elevator and I'm sure this will bring us back up. The hangar is accessible through a door right beside the elevator …"

Claire wasn't listening. Her gaze was transfixed on a team of Umbrella's bio-organic weapons – the Hunter. They were froglike in nature, having hunched statures and green, bumpy skin. They sported evil grins of razor sharp teeth, and instead of webbed hands, they had foot long claws here their hands should have been. I'd never faced one of these monstrosities in combat before, and the fear just enveloped my body.

Behind them, standing tall with his arms folded across his chest, was a man dressed completely in black. And there was only one man in the world who would never take off his sunglasses, not even in an underground facility, let alone on a rainy day.

"Wesker," I hissed – Chris style.

"The Shadow technology has a habit of rejuvenating itself," he said, nonchalantly. "And you, as an organic being, can't. So if we were to extract the technology from you, it would turn itself back on. But you …" Then he grinned, letting a canine tooth show from in between his disgustingly white teeth. "Not that it really matters."

The Hunters started approaching, their feet clicking on the stone floor.

"Claire? What do we do?"

"We fight back," she said without faltering. "I noticed your magnum was empty back there." She cocked her head towards where Chris was, probably now shooting the daylights out of Alexia. "Take this." Without taking her eyes off the creatures, Claire stuffed her hand into the pocket of my jumpsuit, depositing three bottles.

"What the hell am I going to do with this?!" I asked.

"They're filled with an explosive chemical," he replied. "Throw it at those things before they come any closer. Hurry!"

I reached into my pocket and took out a bottle. Claire stuck her arm in a side pouch she had attached to her waist and pulled out another one. Simultaneously, wound our arms back and threw them forward, both bottles sailing in a wide arch through that air. The creatures eyed the approaching items suspiciously … and then there was an explosion. An ear piercing shriek threatened to burst my eardrums, but the dust cleared quickly and I could see the slumped bodies of two Hunters lying dead on the floor in a pile of their own innards.

"Run!" Claire cried. We both dashed towards the remaining three creatures, while they ran for us. I balled my hands into tight fists, praying to whoever was listening that I'd somehow miss their claws. We charged towards each other, the creatures splitting the air with their high pitched cries, and Claire and I adding human shouts of fear, anger and determination to the ensemble. She extracted her own magnum from the holster and I took yet another bottle from my pocket.

And that was the last time I remember time going at normal speed. I could see a pair of the creatures jumping for me. One of them fell from its arm with its claw aimed at my neck. The thing was trying to decapitate me. I dodged to the side, moving around the thing. As the Hunter landed from missing its strike, I jumped backwards, at the same time throwing my arm forward and releasing the bottle. It collided with the monster's head and _boom!!_ Yet another explosion leaving brains and bodily fluids caked onto the prison's walls.

My back exploded in a world of pain as I was thrown forward. I turned around, coming face to face with the second creature. Something warm flowed down my back, but I ignored it. Was I infected now? No … Ada said something about the technology in my body fighting off the infection when I was gashed by the giant worm. This time around, it shouldn't be any different. It raised its claws to slash me again, but in the moment before it would've swung down, Claire's bullets shot into the vicious creature. They punctured holes into its green skin, releasing little flowing rivers of dark red blood from its reptilian body. But it stilled moved towards me as if it hadn't been phased. Claire continued firing with little success. At this rate, the thing would be striking me down in a few seconds. My remaining bottle in hand, I threw it at the Hunter while Claire continued shooting. Only after that explosion that followed did it collapsed into a heap with its friends.

I looked at Claire and shook my head. "You could've used a more powerful gun."

She shook her head. I finished my magnum on the creature that attacked me. I took your buddy down with my handgun. And the shotgun would've hit you too."

"Well … I like your aim, then."

Something hard connected fast and strong with my back, right between the shoulder blades. I collapsed to the ground, seeing stars from the powerful impact. Then I heard Claire let out a scream, only to be muffled almost instantly.

"You're more formidable than I thought," Wesker's voice called.

I was on the floor, my arms straining in vain to pick my body up, but I was in too much shock, too much pain to move. Still, I don't know where I got the nerve to suddenly reply to him, "You should've known that when I chewed your viral nose off!"

That earned me a solid kick to the ribs with Wesker's steel toe boots. There was a sharp stabbing pain from the point of impact. I didn't feel anything break, but he definitely fractured something. The pain from his kick, combined with that from the wound on my back threatened to make me pass out – and bleed to death, whether or not I passed out. My vision was swimming, I began seeing patches of darkness and dots of light complementing each other, instead of the grimy prison walls. Then I realized my whole body was on the floor, curled up with my arms wrapped tightly around my ribs, though my grip was slowly loosening.

"Don't lose consciousness," I said to myself mentally. "You can't afford to die now. You've come this far!!" I swallowed a wad of spit and concentrated on my breathing, no matter how much it hurt to do so. But what wouldn't help. The blood draining from my body through my back would eventually claim me. Even still, I struggled to hold on to consciousness, to life, for a little longer. At least I would know that I fought till the very end.

"I was on the verge of completely fainting from the pain and blood loss when I caught a glimpse of Chris's silhouette standing strong against the doorway, the light from the windows of the silo outside glowing around his darkened form. He did it! He finished off Alexia! But … was it too late for me?

"Kenny!" he cried, noticing me lying helpless and dying on the ground. He then snapped his head back up and Chris sneered at whatever he saw.

A large boot stepped into my field of vision, and I heard Wesker chuckle. I could hear Claire struggle in futile against Wesker's iron grip. "Chris," she pleaded, "help us!"

But Chris and Wesker stood there for a tense moment, confronting each other. I swear, if I had lit a cigarette in that room, we would've all died from the explosion, the air was so dangerous. Neither of them moved, just stood there, sizing each other up. Claire continued to struggle, while I just tried desperately to hold onto life. And yet Wesker and Chris continued standing there, waiting … and looking …


	29. Chapter 22: Freedom At Last

**Bianca: **Wow, you read through all those chapters quickly! I must say I'm impressed. I don't think I could read so much so quickly myself.

**Kingfish: **Thank you for your criticism. You must be a really experienced writer (or reader) to recognize right away that I NEVER edit my chapters. I always figured there was something lacking in this story, especially near the beginning, but you've cleared it up a little more for me. But man, you sure know how to compliment, too!

**Jojo**Oh, I'm still following the game – just with an extra character thrown in. So I guess you know what's going to happen in this chapter! Though … not everything …

**E-Z B: **Well, I have nothing to spoil for anyone so I will let you know about my future plans. At this point in time, I have absolutely no plans for a sequel to this fic. The main reason is because there are no other Resident Evil games to cover right now. The fourth installment is due early next year so perhaps I will write a short sequel covering that game. But like I said, I have nothing planned right now. Well … unless you count Act 5 as a sequel. It takes place exactly one month after this fic, but of course, it IS a Street Fighter fic. Oh, and Act 5 is actually a re-write, meant to replace "Other Worlds," just to let you know.

**Jano**Here's the next chapter! Rather quick timing, I'd say, knowing my writing habits.

**Angel: **Thank you! I'm searching for an adequate walking cane, now that I've reach the ripe old 21 years of age. I shudder at the thought. Yes, this story is ending … the next chapter will be the last. And I honestly never thought it would never be finished because of its slow start. But all the reviews have kept me writing, and I must say I'm quite happy with the support I've gained. I've got a lot of loose ends to tie up so the last chapter will be relatively long compared to the other chapters of this story.

**Emma: **It's funny how people throw the word cliffhanger around left and right. Was it THAT bad of a cliffhanger? I just wanted to get a little suspense going on … but having people aching for another chapter, that's a little stronger than what I intended. Hehe, sorry!

**XXXXX**

"Wesker!!!" Chris bellowed in rage, cutting the silence with his booming voice. Wesker was gone. I could no longer see him and I was sure it wasn't just my fading vision. My hands were cold … or numb, I couldn't tell. The black spots that I saw gradually grew larger and larger. My heart thumped around in my chest, sending waves of pain into my head. And then I began shaking … I was terrified. I didn't want to die. But yet I could feel death close in from all around me, slowly claiming my senses from me all at once. Chris's voice was distant, though he stood a mere three feet away.

"D…don't leave me …" I pleaded weakly. And then I saw Chris, crouched down and looking sympathetically at me. His mouth moved but his voice was so far away. He scooped my head into his palm and continued talking.

"It's gonna be alright, don't worry about a thing," I heard him say.

"I … I'm going to …" I said in between deep breaths.

"No!" he shouted at me. "Don't you even say that!"

I shook my head. "I didn't side with Umbrella," I insisted. I knew I'd already told him everything, but I just wanted him to have no doubts. Chris had to be absolutely sure. I didn't want to be remembered as a traitor – because I never was. "You … you know I'd … never side with …" the gasps were more often now, deeper too.

"I understand," Chris reassured. "Just stay here and rest. I'm going after Claire and Wesker."

"No …" I gripped his arm tightly, not willing to let go. I knew it was selfish of me, but dying alone in this dark, dank prison wasn't something I wanted to have happen to me.

Chris took my wrist and turned it so that my palm was facing him. With his other hand, he placed a folded sheet of paper. "It's a mixed herb cocktail," he explained. "Open your mouth." I obeyed. He took the paper out of my hand and held it over my face, tipping it gently so that the dry herb powder slid in a steady stream into my mouth. "Don't swallow until it's all gone," he advised. My first reaction was to spit out the foul tasting powder. My face crinkled into an expression of disgust. "Don't spit, just swallow!" When there was nothing left to go into my mouth, I clenched my jaw and forced the vile concoction down my throat. "You're in pretty bad shape, so it'll take awhile for the effects to kick in. But I don't want you to move from this spot."

"It's not like I can," I said, suddenly feeling better. But I still felt like I wasn't in any shape to follow him anyway.

"Here's a handgun," Chris offered, placing the firearm in my hand. "If any zombies try and get to you, just aim for their head. It's fully loaded so you should have enough time to defend yourself until I get back."

The next thing I heard was his footsteps scurrying off. I clutched the gun close to my chest. My senses were no longer fading, although it would take a ridiculously long time for them to fully return, until my body could re-produce the amount of blood I lost. There was definitely a blue herb in that herb cocktail. It had medicinal and hemostatic abilities, thickening my blood so that it would clog the wound in my back. I continued lying there in the darkness, hearing distant explosions, one occurring after the other. The place was going to blow up soon, just like Raccoon City. Though unlike that encounter, I was far enough away from the underground lab before the self destruct sequence kicked in. This time, I was lying helplessly on the grungy floor. I prayed silently that Chris and Claire would come back soon and get us the hell out of this place.

As if my prayers had been answered, I heard footsteps rapidly approaching where I lay. My first instincts told me that it was Claire and Chris, but there was no way he'd be able to fend off Wesker that successfully, was there? Wesker was some sick creature with super human abilities. Chris was just a man. Yes, I could fight off Wesker, but that was due to the Shadow Technology inside my body. But Chris didn't have any sort of ability he could take advantage of.

Having decided there was no logical possibility that he could've returned so quickly with Claire, I began wondering whose footsteps I was hearing. Zombies? No, they were too quick. I tried pulling myself up, but the simple act of lifting my head off the ground caused the stars and black spots to make their triumphant return into my vision. Something wasn't right with the situation. Who were these people on their way here? Then I noticed the pool of my own blood I was lying in … maybe I could … play dead?

I quickly closed my eyes and sprawled out my arms on the floor and just lay there. I was probably pale from all the blood loss, so I bet I was a pretty convincing corpse.

"Beginning obtaining the T Veronica Virus," someone said.

"He should be just a few feet ahead according to Wesker," another voice followed.

My heart leapt into my chest when I heard their footsteps on the ground close to where I was lying. There were in the same room! I began to panic instinctively. It took a great deal of effort to keep myself dead, as panic probably wasn't good for me at this point.

"How are we gonna get the sample out of here, through this emergency elevator?" one of the soldiers asked, tapping the call button with his finger.

"Someone made a mess," another gruff voice noted, probably after looking at me. "Is he the T Veronica Virus sample Wesker was talking about?"

"I doubt it," someone else replied. "This guy is pretty dead looking…"

"Over here! I've found him!" The footsteps left the room where I lay and into the jail cell that Claire and I escaped from earlier. They wanted to take Steve! Should I try and stop them? No … I had barely started recovering. My brave antic would probably get me killed. And Steve was already dead. But what could Wesker's men want with Steve? The T Veronica Virus? I couldn't afford to let them get their hands on Steve.

It was a stupid decision, I know now. But I raised my arm without them noticing, and shot the closest soldier in the calf. The bullet entered quickly, producing a small spray of blood from the impact. He screamed as he fell to the floor, clutching his leg.

"Holy shit, that guy's still alive!" It was the squad leader who said that. I could tell just by the uniform he wore. He had black armor plating on his chest, nd matching joint pads. His head was hidden under an elaborate biker looking elmet. The uniforms of the other soldiers resembled his, minus the helmet. For he first time I saw them. They ranged from their thirties to forties. All of their faces bore deep wrinkles, some had rough beards, others had short or hair or shaved heads. But they all looked like they were ready to kill me.

"Shoot!" the leader commanded. Every soldier raised their gun with fluid speed, but almost instantly, a stray bullet ricocheted off one of their guns, knocking it right out of the man's hands. BANG, BANG, BANG! Another three shots were fired, each one with perfect aiming, until every soldier was crouched on the floor, gripping their wrists, their faces in twisted masks of pain.

"Don't touch him," a feminine voice threatened.

"Claire!" I cried out of relief. But the soldiers then withdrew their own personal semi-automatic rifles from the heavy packs they wore on their backs and aimed again.

"Holy shit, let's book it!" Claire screamed, picking me up off the floor swiftly. We landed painfully into the emergency elevator. Apparently, it had just arrived after one of the soldiers hit the switch earlier. Claire leapt to her feet and began frantically pressing the close button as we were showered with a hail of bullets. One of them hit me. The right side of my body, just under the rib cage, exploded in a world of pain as I sat on the floor of the elevator. I clutched my side and just remembered screaming.

"They got me!" Fortunately, the heavy metal doors closed and apparently, they were bullet proof too. The elevator began rising with a smooth, calm electric hum.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I've been shot!" I cried. "I've never been SHOT before!" The blood was coming out of my side now, instead of my back. "Oh my GAWD!"

"Here," Claire offered, reaching for the pant leg of my jumpsuit. "This material is a little tough to rip.

" I painfully reached for the collar of my jumpsuit and unzipped it down to my chest. "Take some fabric from my collar," I said. She agreed, reached for my collar and tore a clean white strip from my T-shirt I wore underneath.

"I need more," she said, reaching into my jump suit again. She took the strips of fabric and tied them together, albeit with a little difficulty from the bumpy elevator ride. She took the long strip and wrapped it around my body, being sure to apply as much pressure as she could to the wound as I shouted profanities to nobody in particular. "Be quiet!" Claire demanded. "It's hard to concentrate with your screaming!"

I just shot her a death look. "I just got SHOT with a goddamn bullet!" I repeated. "It **_HURTS_**!!"

"Alright," she said, putting her hands up in the air, "I'm sorry."

"You're not done wrapping yet." She rolled her eyes at me and continued. A short moment of silence ensued, giving me ample time to take note of the ridiculously long elevator ride. I guess there was some logic behind it. This was an emergency elevator built to handle masses of people during an evacuation. And their safety would come first. Having an elevator moving at ridiculously high speeds with large groups of people spelt a lot of queasy stomachs and perhaps even some injuries, which would defeat the whole purpose of a safe evacuation.

"You know," Claire said, after a quick chuckle, "you look a lot like Leon when we first escaped Raccoon City."

"Uh … how?"

"He had bandages wrapped around himself too, after he got shot by Annette," she explained.

"Who's Annette?"

"That's Sherry's mother."

"Sherry. Was she the girl that was with Leon just after the explosion?" Claire nodded. "You guys got into that fight … did you ever make up?"

"We're a team, fighting for the same cause. So we're pretty formal with each other. I think he may still be mad at me though, I'm not sure. I haven't really spoken to him much … on a personal basis, anyway."

The elevator came to a complete stop, interrupting our conversation. "I think we're there. Help me up." She put a hand under each of my armpits and helped me hoist myself to my feet. "You said there was an airplane hangar. Do you remember where it is? That's the only place Chris would've left the jet he took to get over here."

"Turn left," I directed, noting that we were back on the very same walkway that the pilot and I entered the facility from. And this was the same walkway I saw from a few floors down, where Chris faced off with Alexia Ashford. My curiosity getting the better of me, I walked over to the edge and I placed my hands on the railings and leaned my head over, getting a good look at what lay below. There were swarms of strange mutant ants crawling around down there. They were pretty far down, but large enough for me to make out their forms. Not wanting to know what they looked like up close, I headed for the door to the right of the elevator, tagging behind Claire.

"That must be Chris's plane," Claire said, pointing at a fighter jet that stood about a storey under yet another metal walkway that we were standing on. There was a ladder that led straight into the cockpit of the vehicle.

"There are three people who need to get out of here. How are we going to squeeze into that two person plane?"

"I guess we're gonna have to do just that," Claire said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "We get to be comfortable in the back seat while Chris pilots the plane."

"You think Steve would mind?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at Claire with a mischievous grin spreading across my lips. But that only earned me a hard elbow from Claire.

"I'm not a cougar," she said, turning in the opposite direction. "I was just joking."

"Oh," I continued, trying to get the better of her, "I know you wanna nab the sex-ay kid from the cradle."

"If you hadn't been shot …" she threatened, but then decided to drop it. "Now's not the time to be messing around. Come on, get in." She climbed down the ladder with me following. When Claire reached the plane, she strapped herself in the back seat and then looked up at me. "What are you waiting for?" she asked. She patted her lap. "Come on!"

"Stop treating me like a baby," I said, joining her in the back seat, sitting on her lap. Claire wrapped her arms around my waist to keep me steady.

"God, I hope its not a long flight. This could get pretty uncomfortable after awhile."

"Better than if our roles were reversed …" I mumbled absent mindedly.

"Excuse me?! Are you calling me -"

God himself could not have timed the following explosion better. It was powerful enough to shake the entire hangar, sending little bits of debris down on me and Claire.

"I hope Chris makes it here quickly!" I said, covering my head.

"He has to make it!" Claire added. "He promised me."

"In this kind of situation, it's hard to keep such a risky promise!" Another explosion, this time closer. Probably from a level or two below.

"Chris always keeps his word!" Claire insisted, over the booming noise. It was like a miniature earthquake, the ground was trembling so severely, threatening to spill the jet over. Claire and I hugged each other tightly for comfort, and for safety from the falling debris.

"Claire," I said into her ear, still having to shout over the noise, "if we don't make it out of here alive, I just want you to know that I'm thankful I ran into you over at Rockfort."

"Please, Kenny," she replied, "don't talk like this. I don't want to die right now. I don't …"

"GAAAHH!!" Another explosion occurred, from somewhere in the same room as a heavy piece of debris clipped the plane on the nose. Claire and I screamed, pulling our heads closer together.

"Look at the both of you, holding onto each other like kids," Chris's voice mocked. "Someone's gotta play the hero and get you out of here."

"Chris!" Claire and I declared with happiness and relief at the same time. The large piece of debris that hit the plane's nose was actually Chris himself.

"I … I thought you …" Claire sobbed, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Hey, I always keep my promises," Chris said, winking. "Good to see the herbs worked on you, Kenny."

"Yeah, it's great," I mumbled, "but let's just talk later and fly NOW!"

**XXXXX**

The explosion from the base was magnificent. Right before developing into a giant mushroom cloud, it glowed so brilliantly, the resulting light lit up even the crisp, clear morning sky. The jet took of fairly quickly, a lot faster than I ever expected a jet to go. Then again, I'd never flown in one before so I wasn't sure what to expect. The ascent into the sky was endured in complete silence – aside from the intense screaming of the plane's engines. I glimpsed at the clear blue sky for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. There were little cotton clouds floating leisurely in that sea of baby blue. And I can honestly say in that moment, it felt good to be alive.

"Chris," Claire said, breaking the quiet atmosphere, "please don't … don't ever leave me alone again."

"I'm sorry, Claire," Chris replied, "but I had some things to take care of." She leaned forward and put her hand on his shoulder, with me crushed between her body and the back of Chris's seat. "Umbrella has to be taken out, once and for all. And Kenny, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for a lot of things. I should've believed you when you told me Wesker was alive. And I shouldn't have just jumped to the conclusion that you had sided with Umbrella. You were loyal to our cause from the moment you set foot on Rockfort. Thinking that you had joined Umbrella for real based on a five minute conversation was stupid, especially after all the months you've given me inside information on the Rockfort facility."

"It's alright," I said, shrugging. "I'm just glad this is all over."

"No," Claire countered, "it's not. As long as Umbrella is still around, it will never be over."

"And we'll need all the help we can get," Chris added.

"You'll have me there," I offered. "I'll do everything I can to …"

"No," Chris insisted. "Go to school, Kenny. Get an education, a good job, and just enjoy your freedom."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Chris had just said that they were going to need all the help they could get, and I was willing to help. And now he wasn't taking me up on my offer?

"But I'll be useful to your cause! I'm properly trained, I've got this Shadow shit inside me … how wouldn't I be able to help?"

"Your support would once again expose you to Umbrella," Chris explained. "And technically, your name is still in their system. You are a registered Umbrella agent. As it is, with the destruction of the Rockfort facility, it would only be natural for them to assume you're dead. You're free from their hold. Besides, even if they somehow managed to take you back, and you continued your undercover work for us within their facilities, it'll only be a matter of time before they find out. And who knows what they'll do to you."

"And Umbrella already has developed bio-organic weapons of mass destruction," Claire added. "Imagine what they could do with the bio-technology within you, Kenny. I don't even want to think about it."

"For your safety, and ours, stay out of this fight," Chris advised. "You took a great risk by working at Rockfort. If you were to get involved again, you'd get sucked into the matter. Don't try and spread the word about Umbrella's activities. They have spies lurking in every corner of the government system. You'll only draw attention to yourself. Just … please … continue living your life. Get as far away from Umbrella as possible. Like I said, you're free now."

"I have nothing to continue living my life with …" I said. "Everything I had was at Rockfort. And before that, my life was in Raccoon City. Both have been completely annihilated."

"If that's the case, then I suppose we could always help organize a place for you to stay," Chris suggested.

Suddenly, a very strange idea popped into my head. I'd been living in America for at least two years up to that point. And yet I never ever considered returning to my birthplace. "That won't be necessary," I said. "I think …" The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to appeal to me. "I think I'll return back to Osaka."

Claire's eyes widened. "Osaka, as in Japan?"

"Yeah," I replied, nodding excitedly. "I used to live there before moving over to America. I just might be able to resettle there."

"That's … far away," Claire said, drooping her head slightly. "But like Chris said, I should continue living my life and get as far away from Umbrella as possible, right?"

"Man, I don't think I meant it literally, though," Chris said rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, if that's good for you, it's good for us. It's just that … well …"

"We're going to miss you," Claire finished.

How was it she could find it in herself to say that? I'd only met Claire twice in the three months I was even aware of her existence. But when I thought about it, I realized that although during those months, our paths rarely crossed, they were definitely traveled alongside each other, with the same goal – to take down Umbrella. And with Chris, I'd known him since I started volunteering at the Raccoon City precinct, long before there was even any mention of a cannibal murder. Given that, wasn't hard for me to find the same words Claire said to me within myself, "I'll miss you all too …"


	30. Epilogue: Reflection on the World of the...

I had never experienced pain in my life until that day ... the day that Chris touched the plane down in the saturated salty waters of the Pacific Ocean, just a mile or two off the coast of the Californian coastline.

"We're gonna have to swim for it," he advised, just before he landed the jet. Or perhaps 'crash' would be a more suitable word. "We'll definitely be drawing attention landing in a military base in one of  
Umbrella's planes."

"Oh god," Claire moaned, "I hate swimming in the ocean. Anything can be down there."

"It's only a short swim," Chris said, "and I'm sure we're all physically fit enough to do it."

"Uh ... Chris," I said pointing to my back, "there's a HUGE cut right here that's just starting to heal from those herbs you gave me."

"At least the salt will disinfect the wound," he replied, shrugging.

"It's gonna hurt like a bitch."

"I can already feel your pain," Claire said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "But you've got to pull through this. We've been through so much, and I hate to think of you drowning from pain just after  
we've escaped."

"Yeah, you've got a point," I admitted. "But I'm not going to die, I  
won't have it. It's just, I'm a little nervous."

And did I ever have reason to be. From the moment the water started  
seeping into the jet, my wound began to sting. I bit my lower lip and forced my arms up, to slide the glass covering of the plane back to release Claire and myself from the back half of the jet. We jumped into the water and began following Chris's lead. The coastline was a clear along the horizon, a dark line about an inch thick with thin skyscrapers reaching for the blue heavens.

"This feels good," Claire commented, "it feels like all the death and disease we've been through is being washed away."

"My, how abstract of you," I said, rolling my eyes. "Heh, wouldn't it be funny if a shark just came and ..."

"Shut up," Claire said, looking back at me, "I don't even wanna  
think about that."

"Or maybe if one of those giant Neptune sharks came up and ..."

"Neptune shark?" Claire asked.

"You don't want to know," Chris replied, "Kenny, just be quiet. You're freaking me out too."

"I'm sorry." I had to smirk a little bit. I had managed to let the imaginations of two grown adults get the better of them. Who's the child now?

The warm water felt good against our skin. It heated our bodies with its warmth, allowing the blood to cirulate easier, proving us with adequate oxygen to perform the task. The wound on my back began to get numb, probably getting used to the amount of salt. It still hurt, but definitely not as much as it was when I'd just jumped into the waters.

The coastline was rapidly approaching now, and the thought of being back in civilization was so enticing, I propelled myself harder, stronger and faster to the point where I'd caught up to Chris, who was previously a few meters ahead of me.

"Damn, Kenny," he said in amazement, "did you ever think about joining the Olympics?" He was joking, of course. I'd probably be banned from all the smoke breaks in between training I would take. Hmm ... a cigarette would be nice right about now. This is the longest I'd been without one - three days since the destruction of Rockfort. Then, I began to swim faster.

It felt so good to have my feet on solid ground again. Well I wouldn't really say solid ground - it was sand and the water still came up to my shoulders, but it still beat swimming! The three of us walked over to the beach, eyeing the beachgoers self consciously. They were all swimming happily in the waters in their bathing suits, people of all shapes and sizes. There were chubby children on the beach, building sandcastles, fighting and crying. Teen surfers with bright blonde hair and tanned, toned bodies paddled their way out to the waves from which the three of us walked out from. Fatter, chunkier people with varying amounts of body hair lay sprawled out on the warm sand, some sleeping.

But for those who were awake and about, there was no set of eyes off Claire, Chris and myself as we walked out of the water, dressed fully in battle gear - except me, in a jumpsuit that weighed me down with all the water it absorbed.

"Dudes," one of the young surfers said approaching us. He didn't look out of place amongst his friends, golden skin and shaggy blonde hair. "Did you guys just survive a plane crash or something?"  
I looked at Chris and smirked. "Something like that," I replied, earning me a jab to the shoulder from Chris.

"Can you tell me where the nearest payphone is? We need to call for help."

"Well the hospital is just a few blocks away, dudes," the surfer replied. "You guys need some, like, medical attention or something?" Claire blushed upon laying her eyes on him. "I know ... like, CPR and stuff. "

"We don't need ..." None of us needed CPR! We were all conscious for Christ sakes! "Well, Claire might." It was her turn to jab me in the shoulder.

"Okay dudes, you guys need help getting to the hospital?"

"Just tell us where it is," Chris said aggressively, noticing the surfer return the looks that Claire was giving him.

"Uh ... sure," he stammered, "just head three blocks north and it should be on the left hand side of the street."

Without another word, Chris seized Claire by the wrist and started pulling her with him. "Thanks," I said to the guy for his kindness, running to catch up to the siblings. Meanwhile Claire had turned around and waved goodbye to the surfer with the biggest smile spread across her face.

**XXXXX**

The rain outside was pounding on the fine glass windows mercilessly, threatening to beat them down with their fury. The rapid drops of water reminded me of tiny little fists, beating at the glass … as if they were trying to get inside. A chill ran up my spine. The zombies were relentless … not unlike the rain. Despite the skin and muscle gradually peeling off their bodies, they somehow possessed super human strength, able to break down doors, windows, almost anything to get at their prey.

The scalding hot coffee warmed my hands through the black paper cup that contained it. I brought it up to my lips and sipped gently, sucking the air in to cool it as it entered my mouth. I set the cup back down on the table and hung my head down, rubbing my eyes hard. When was the last time I'd gotten a decent amount of sleep? Three days ago … long enough ago.

Someone brushed by me, the sudden contact with a stranger making me jump out of my seat. It was a young woman, around my age with curly blonde hair. She was dressed a few years older than she looked, however, with a green shawl around her shoulders and an orange sleeveless turtleneck.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I didn't make you spill anything, did I?"

I looked down at my lap. "Uh … no," I replied sheepishly. Well how was I supposed to tell her that my sub-conscience hadn't left Rockfort yet, and that I thought she was a zombie?

"My god, Kenny, look at you," she teased. "Your eyes are all droopy, your hair is a disheveled mess and you're drinking coffee! Someone so young shouldn't be …"

"Ashley?" I thought she looked familiar. Who could forget Ashley Graham, the daughter of a senator? Apparently, I could.

"Yeah, fancy running into you here," she said, pulling up a seat. "It's a freaking cold day today with the heavy rain and all. I heard about what happened to Raccoon City." She put her hand on mine and tried to look me in the eye. "I'm sorry to hear what happened to all those innocent people. But I'm glad to know you made it out alive. It's good that the evacuation effort saved some lives."

"Evacuation effort?" I shot her a glare. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I heard that radio active waste was spilled in Raccoon City. So the government had to evacuate the city."

"Who did you hear that from, Ashley?" I asked, my voice raising.

"Sorry, did I say something wrong?"

I brought my voice back down a notch. "There was _no _fucking evacuation effort, Ash. Raccoon was left to fend for itself."

Ashley shook her head. "No, you're wrong, Kenny. I heard it from my father himself. There was evacuation attempt for the survivors of the city."

I scoffed. Of course that's what Senator Graham would've told his daughter. He would never say anything to make the U.S. government look bad, even if it involved helping Umbrella cover up their mistake – a mistake that cost over a hundred thousand people their lives. And then I knew what Chris was up against. By going against Umbrella, he and the anti-Umbrella movement were up against the United States government itself! Was this why Chris didn't want me involved? The thought of leaving this corrupted country started to sound really enticing. And the look of hate Ashley was giving me … how ignorant was she? I couldn't blame her, being related to a senator she was bound to have extremely biased views. It was up to me to talk some sense into the girl.

"And why would the government be interested in saving lives?" I asked her. "You've been to Raccoon before, back when we first met. You saw our lifestyle – a quaint little town that nobody cared to know existed. The loss of Raccoon City would mean absolutely nothing to the American economy."

"The government came to help the city because power we possess comes with the responsibility to hold our heads high morally, and help our fellow citizens."

Her blind statements that she was presenting as fact enraged me. "If only you knew how goddamn deluded you are. All they care about are themselves, sitting on their fat asses in the oval office and in the senate, stuffing their faces with doughnuts and making stupid laws, covering up for rich companies that practically OWN them, while the rest of us are working our asses off to meet the ridiculously high living standard!"

"You don't even know half of the shit that goes on in the government system," she retorted, "and don't you even pretend to know. I'll have you know that …"

"All I care to know is the fact that your father, along with the co-operation of his fellow senators did a magnificent job conspiring with the Umbrella Corporation, who was solely responsible for the destruction of Raccoon City!"

There was a stunned silence. My outcry had attracted the attention of the other coffee shop patrons, but I was so enraged, I couldn't have cared less. "I was there, Ashley, and I saw _everything. _It wasn't radio active waste. It was a goddamn virus that killed people." Now that I've revealed so much classified information, the CIA would be on my tail for sure. I had to be careful with how much more I told Ashley, and the customers of this particular Starbucks joint in downtown Los Angeles, so I conveniently left out the zombification of civilians. "You may think I'm unreasonable, that I'm crazy. But if you seriously want to know what went down in Raccoon, start asking questions. The way things are being run, those that lost their lives in that city will have died in vain, the perpetrators never brought to justice. Start researching the fucking Umbrella Corporation." With the last two words, I slammed my fist on the table with every syllable. Hopefully she got the point.

I could tell that she hadn't taken anything I said into consideration when she stomped her foot on the tile floor and stormed out the door, practically crashing into an incoming customer as she went, out into the pouring rain. Spoiled little rich bitch.

I blinked my eyes, trying to make myself forget everything that had just happened. Was this how I was doomed to think forever? Would the most obscure occurrence remind me of Raccoon City, Rockfort Island, and Umbrella's Antarctic base? I couldn't afford to, not when I had the rest of my life ahead of me. Chris and Claire were very supporting of me. Nobody seemed to approve of my decision to return to Japan at first, but then again, they understood that I had nowhere else to start my life over again. And they also knew that I was one of the only ones lucky enough to have that opportunity.

Leon had joined some kind of government agency as a result of his experience in Raccoon – I'm not sure what kind exactly. He's not at liberty to say. I've asked him about their legitimacy, but I trust Leon's opinion and he had made it quite clear they were the real thing. Claire and Chris had made it a life goal of theirs to take down Umbrella. That horrible company – my employers – had messed with their family for the last time. They hired Wesker who was responsible for attempting to feed Chris and the other S.T.A.R.S. members to their horrible creations. And then Claire almost got killed twice during her search for her brother, having been driven to obscurity by Umbrella. I'm more than ashamed to admit that I allowed that company to pull me into their ranks.

"Long time no see …"

"Jesus!" I cried, jumping from my seat, noticing then that I had zoned out.

"A little jumpy, are we?" Leon asked, his lips spreading into a childish grin. "I had a tough time finding this coffee joint," he explained, glancing at his watch. "You throw a rock and it'll hit five Starbucks locations. Sorry I'm late."

"It's alright," I said, waving off his apology, "I've barely touched my drink anyway." I clasped the paper cut in my hand. "I don't need this stuff to keep me awake. The nightmares do a good enough job."

"I'd tell you to leave it all behind," Leon said, pulling up a wooden chair, sitting right across from me at the small round table. He placed his elbows on the surface and leaned forward. "But I've been having trouble forgetting it all myself." His voice was lower this time, more quiet.

"Do you think Umbrella will find me?"

"Honestly," Leon replied, taking in a deep breath, "I don't."

"It's just that they've got spies all over the place and …" Hmm … it was possible that someone important could have heard my latest outcry of information, when Ashley was here. Should I tell Leon what I'd done? No, that would jeopardize his obscurity.

"You know," he said, looking up thoughtfully, "it's a good thing you decided to leave the country. At first, I thought you could just carry on your life here in the States like nothing ever happened. But with a company like Umbrella having such influence in our government system, going overseas is a smarter, safer idea."

"It's just … hard," I admitted regretfully, "to leave everyone I know."

"I'd be more worried about starting up my life over again in a foreign land."

"You've got a point."

"I mean, I'm lucky in a sense that I've already gotten a job offer with the government. But you're still a high school kid with no family. So, if you ever need any help over in the land of the rising sun, you know who to call, right?"

"We'll all be here for you, kiddo," a third voice said.

I looked up, wondering who the speaker was. It didn't sound like anyone I met recently, yet it sounded strangely familiar. "Officer Ryman!" I cried in surprise. "You're alright!"

Officer Kevin Ryman stood there, just beside Leon with a piping hot, black coffee in his hand. He was an officer with the R.P.D., who I assumed perished with the rest of the city. But now that he was standing in front of me looking healthy as ever, it didn't surprise me that he survived the outbreak. Officer Ryman was a popular guy among those who worked at the precinct, known for his optimism and his carefree personality. He was also athletically superior to most of the other officers, perhaps even to Leon. I didn't get to know him too well during my time working there, but just knowing that an acquaintance had survived that same horror I went through, it was like we were best friends all of a sudden. "You boys mind if I join you for a few minutes?"

"Certainly," I said, tipping my chin at a nearby seat. "Move over, Leon." Kevin wrapped his free arm around the backrest of a vacant seat and brought it over to the table. His long brown bangs brushed in front of his eyes, partially obscuring his vision. He took a sip of his coffee after sitting down, spilling a little on his razor-stubbled chin.

"Ouch, that hurts," he said as he ran his hand across his jaw. "Good ol' five o'clock shadow."

"It's good to see you're alright," I said.

"Same here," he replied. "I'm glad I finally got back in touch with you folks. I was starting to wonder if anyone made it out of Raccoon City alive besides me and the band of survivors that escaped with me."

"There are others?" I asked, slamming my hands down onto the table in surprise.

Leon nodded in response. "Kevin told me about the seven other survivors that left Raccoon with him. It seems that you, Claire, Sherry and I weren't the only lucky ones."

"Out of a city of a thousand people, twelve escaped with their lives." I shook my head in disbelief. "It's so tragic."

"But it really gave us time to think," Kevin added. "We were a small mid-western town. All we knew was our town, our neighbors, and the surrounding terrain. We knew practically nothing about the rest of our country, let alone the world. But since Raccoon's destruction, I've seen more in those three months than I have in my lifetime."

"Where did you go?" Leon asked.

"Just all over," Kevin replied, shrugging, "looking for a new job. I mean, it sucked that our home got destroyed, and having all those people die. But for me, the incident has taught me to go out and look at what else waits for me, and to value my life. Everything before the incident now seems like a waste."

I nodded in agreement. "For the lucky few that escaped with their lives, we've definitely learned a valuable lesson about life itself."

"So what's it like to be back in civilization, Kenny?" Leon asked. "After your time at Rockfort, it must feel really good to be back on the mainland, not some desolated island run by a cross-dressing nutcase."

"Uh … about me joining Umbrella …"

"Don't worry about it," Leon said, understanding what I was getting at. "It's just that I never expect you to go with Mr. Hunk so willingly."

"I went for two reasons," I explained. "The first, and the most important one was to protect you and the others from Umbrella by giving them what they wanted – me. And secondly, I wanted to find out more about where I come from, my history and all that."

"And did you find what you were looking for?"

"No," I admitted. "It turns out that Umbrella knew as much about me as I knew about myself. Just that my father was a Chinese citizen working as a researcher for a crime syndicate in Japan known as Shadowlaw. He was working on some kind of technology that worked with living organisms to enhance their capabilities – similar to Umbrella's virus research. To protect his work from Shadowlaw, he sold it to Umbrella, thinking they were just a harmless pharmaceutical company. But my father caught onto Shadowlaw's plans – they wanted his work for themselves. Shortly before he was assassinated by his employers, he hid his work in a chip inside my body. Because he was killed, the technology was never delivered to Umbrella, though they had already paid a large sum of money for it. Since it was inside of me, they decided to take me."

"You'd think they would try to research that technology inside of you," Kevin said, taking another sip of his drink.

"I don't think they found a way of taking a sample of it from me without killing me."

"Why would Umbrella value your life?" Leon asked. "They mercilessly destroyed an entire city to cover up their tracks. What do they care about human life?"

"I was training in their military training facility on Rockfort," I explained, "and the big wig of the island, Alfred Ashford grew fond of me and my abilities. I think he had something to do with convincing Umbrella to leave me in one piece. He's indirectly saved my life."

"So what exactly is this technology all about, anyway?" Kevin asked.

"I haven't figured it out myself," I said, "but all I know is that it helped me escape infection from the T-Virus, and in my fights against Wesker and Alexia."

"Man," Leon said, raising his eyebrows. "If this technology acted as an agent against the T-Virus, I'm not surprised that Umbrella's suspicions would be raised. Hell, I'd like to know how it works, myself."

"Well, we've got no time to figure that out," Kevin said, glancing at his wristwatch. "We've got to get your luggage checked in."

"Um …" I said, motioning to the floor around me. "I've got no luggage. Everything was destroyed."

"Alright," Leon said, getting up from his seat, "I didn't want to ruin the surprise for you, but I think I'm going to have to now."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, curiously.

"Everybody's at the airport right now," he explained. "We've all gathered there to see you off, and grab a quick bite to eat before you board your flight. Think of it as kind of a last meal together."

"But … I …" I tried to say something, but my mouth seemed to have a lot of trouble forming the most basic words. Kevin and Leon stood with their arms folded across their chests, smiling proudly. I was speechless.

**XXXXX**

The departure gates were right beside a large glass window spanning the entire wall of this particular airport wing, through which takeoffs and landings could be viewed. The planes landed gracefully, despite their rapid speed, engines screaming the whole way down until they sped off to the arrival gates somewhere on the opposite end of the airport.

I had my face pressed against the windows, gawking at these magnificent machines. It had only been two years ago that I first arrived in the United States, and that was the first time I'd ever flown. This was my second time and the prospect was equally exciting. I felt a warm hand find a place on my shoulder.

I turned around to see who it was – a pretty dark blonde, almost brunette girl with short hair, contrasted well with form fitting navy blue T-shirt. Now here was a face I had never expected to see again. I thought she'd died in Raccoon City when it was eliminated. We weren't exactly friends in high school, at least after it had dissolved but I was happy nonetheless that she was standing right in front of me.

"Lisa Hartley," I said, a relieved smile washing over my features.

"Kenneth Feng," she replied, throwing her arms around me.

We stood there for a moment, crying in relief for each other, crying for all the hardships we'd gone through from losing our beloved mountain community. We had nobody to look out for us now. We were in the same boat. The only difference was in the near future, I would be halfway across the world.

"Fancy runnin' into you here, man," I heard a second voice say, coming from just behind Lisa. Through my teary vision, there stood her boy toy, the same one the uptown kids and I used to torture in high school. His long blonde hair had been cut short now, close to his head. I must admit he didn't look as trashy anymore.

"Jack!" I cried like a fucking woman. But I didn't care at that point. I was just happy to see I wasn't the only high school student to make it out of Raccoon City alive. He reached over and we gave each other a hug, patting each others' backs like the real men we were.

"My goodness, how did you get out of the city?" Lisa asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing!" I said.

Lisa and Jack looked at each other and back at me. "It's a long story," she said.

"One that deals with spiders, a chicken-shit cop, large rotting zombies in trench coats …" Jack elaborated.

"I don't imagine your story would be much different," Lisa said, elbowing me lightly in the ribs.

"Only mine has a giant carnivorous worm and yours doesn't," I replied. And the fact that mine was three months longer than theirs was, but I wasn't going to go into the details about Umbrella recruiting me for their twisted plots. I wasn't about to jeopardize my anonymity. "Who else made it out?"

Lisa didn't respond. Instead, she looked towards the ground and shook her head solemnly.

"You mean … Justin, Julie, Phil, Sarah … everyone?" She nodded her head in response to each name that I listed off. I could feel a cold knife stab into my heart. Everyone I had known for two years in high school, with the exception of Lisa and Jack, they'd all died in the zombie onslaught.

"All the people who showed up at my birthday party," Lisa whispered quietly. "They're all …" But she refused to finish her sentence. "I'm glad you didn't end up coming, Kenny. I really am."

"So …" I wanted desperately to change the subject. We would find time to talk about this later, probably through email or something. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Jack and I are taking a trip together," she said enthusiastically looping her arm around his elbow. "We're going to Mexico. What about you?"

"I'm leaving the country," I said. "Going back home to Japan."

Their expressions sagged. "Oh."

"We all have to start over somewhere after losing Raccoon, right? Well there's no other place left for me here. I'm just going to see what I can do if I go back home."

"I was hoping we could exchange contacts and keep each other informed once we get back from Mexico," Lisa said. "But I guess … I guess just because you're going to be overseas doesn't mean we can't still do that, right?"

I smiled, and we exchanged our email addresses, promising to keep in touch after such a traumatic experience. I found myself interested in hearing how Jack and Lisa survived Raccoon City. Given the circumstances in that necropolis, it's a miracle anyone made it out alive, period. I thought I was extremely lucky by running into people who helped me escape in the end. If it wasn't for them, I might've never made it out. What were the chances that they would be equally lucky? I caught myself pondering this as I watched them walk away towards their departure gate, on the other side of the airport.

"Are you ready to take off, Kenny?" It was Claire, looking quite refreshed, in comparison to the way she looked back in Rockfort, despite having the exact same clothes on – the red, flaming jacket with short black sleeves, and her tight blue jeans. Claire's chestnut hair was hanging freely today, and she looked far more attractive with it worn down than up in a ponytail.

"Yeah, thanks for the dinner," I replied. "It'll be awhile before I can come back to the States, before I can have such greasy food again!"

"Be careful when you're out there on your own," Chris advised, stepping closer from where he stood behind Claire. He wrapped his arms around my body in a tight hug and patted my back, saying, "I'm gonna miss you, Squirt!"

"I'm gonna miss you guys too, Chris," I replied, returning the gesture.

Claire sniffed. "Oh, damnit," she said as tears began running from the corners of her eyes. "I told myself I wouldn't cry." She gently shoved Chris out of the way and then hugged me, burying her face into my shoulder. "You behave yourself, okay? Write us whenever you get the chance."

"You know I will," I replied, hugging her closely.

"Don't waste your life away," Jill advised, approaching from beside Chris, with Barry watching along behind her. "It's so sad this is the first time we meet after Raccoon's disaster, but I'd rather have it this way, than if we hadn't made it out at all." I nodded in agreement. "Chase your dreams! And I want to see you defending me in court some day. I know you're doing to be a damn good lawyer."

"Alright kids," Kevin spoke up, "we might want to let Kenny go soon or he'll miss his flight." I had to tear myself away from Jill and Claire with a lot of difficulty. How could I so readily leave them behind? They'd been like mothers to me while Chris and Leon were like the big brothers I never had.

"Kenny," Leon said, scratching his shoulder, "dude, it's been fun … and … uh … sorry, I'm not good with goodbyes."

"That's good enough," I said, biting my lip, "if this gets anymore emotional, I'll turn into a sobbing wreck. So please, let's just leave it like this."

I turned my back on the group quickly and started heading for the departure gate, in front of which stood an airport attendant, asking for passengers to display their passports. I could just feel everyone's eyes, glaring through my back. I had to turn around for one last look, and I did. All seven of them were waving with forced smiles masking their sorrow to see me go. Somehow, Barry had produced a handkerchief and was waving it at me, just like you see people do in really old black and white films.

I turned back away from them at that instant, and clasped my hand over my eyes. My hand was getting wet from the tears now. I felt more embarrassed after realizing that the airport attendant, a complete stranger, was going to see me like this. I displayed my passport for her and mouthed the word, "sorry."

"It's alright," she said, waving her hand, "I work here. I see this kind of thing everyday."

Ah, what the hell. I've already started bawling like a baby, a complete stranger had already seen me, I might as well let the others see me too. I turned back around to face them and waved like a maniac, who returned the gesture enthusiastically.

But then I saw something that completely shocked me, effective enough to stop the flow of tears, enough to cause the smile on my face to fade away. Leaning conspicuously on a pillar just a few meters behind where Chris and the others stood was Billy Coen, with his arms folded, looking at me just passed the top rims of his dark shades. He gave me a thumbs up. And it took me a moment to get over the shock and reflect the action back at him. I did it subtly, not raising my forearm too high, making sure that Chris and his police officer co-workers weren't made aware of Billy the convict saying goodbye in his own way. I couldn't let that happen, seeing as how it was because of Billy and Ada that I'd made it out of Raccoon alive.

And that completed the goodbye package. An unexpected feeling of tranquility came over me, knowing I was leaving everyone on a good note. I turned around and headed deeper into the departure wing, looking for the gate number printed on my boarding pass. I rounded a corner and everybody I had known during my stay in Raccoon City, from the beginning up to its destruction, disappeared almost like magic. The peaceful feeling that overcame me was still going strong as I scanned my memories of the horrible events that occurred in the past three months. I was leaving it all behind. I couldn't help smiling as I realized that. Somewhere deep down inside me, there was also a feeling of accomplishment. How many other fifteen year olds had survived Raccoon? My friends, Lisa Hartley and Jack Carpenter did. Well they weren't really my friends, but since running into each other a few minutes ago, our reaction to each other's presence was far different than they'd been in high school. That made us the only high school students to survive Raccoon. And me, I was the only high school student in the whole city to fight off zombies, crazed dead S.T.A.R.S. captains, Umbrella BOWs, secret agents from strange corporations that rival Umbrella, and sexually confused generals … the only one to survive the resident evil in a world of the undead.

**THE END**


	31. Author's Note to Reviewers

Author's Note To Reviewers

Thanks to every single one of my reviewers for taking the time to let me know how I was doing with the story. And a very special thank you to those reviewers who have stuck with me from the rough beginnings of this story – particularly Flamestrike for practically forcing me to continue with death threats! j/k

**Shadow Megaman: **I will continue to keep an eye on your story to see how it progresses. You've done a great job so far (how could I NOT say that?!). And yes, you're right about Ashley being the name of the President's daughter in RE4. And that's the character Kenny argued with in my last chapter. But since I left off in December of 1998, and RE4 takes place this year (six years later), there is no way Ashley's father would've been president yet. So I made him a senator.

**Jojo**You saying that my story is flawless make me shudder. It's a very nice compliment though I don't think I could back up that claim! But thanks for saying that anyway! What author can't use an ego boost once in awhile?

**E-Z B: **I'm Canadian so it's natural for me to be against anything President Bush stands for. Everywhere I went during the day after Election Day, everyone was bitching about how they couldn't believe he won a second term in a row – and that included me. I honestly thought Kerry would win! I really did. It's so sad.

**Pokemon**Uh … continue? I'm touched, but sorry to disappoint you, bud. But you just reviewed the last chapter.

**Emma:** Real talent, huh? Thank you very much, that is one of the best compliments I've ever received. I do plan on continuing my writing, and I hope you choose to do the same. Hope to see you in some other stories, too.

**Flamestrike**You've been with me from day one! I can't believe it, it's such an honor to have a loyal reviewer like you. Good to know my efforts haven't gone to waste!

**Bianca: **I'm sorry you went all the way to Act 5 looking for a sequel! But my Act 5 is a Street Fighter fanfiction! As I might have already said, there are no current plans for a Resident Evil sequel to this story, though I highly doubt this is permanent, since RE4 will be coming soon.

**Lost Survivor: **You write the longest reviews and I'm thankful for that. You've got brilliant ideas that you've shared with me, though I would much prefer that you use your own ideas for your stories. They would be fantastic. I just don't feel right working on someone else's story elements (except for Capcom's because this is fanfiction I'm writing after all).

**Jano**You're the only reviewer I've ever had with a unique rating system of your own. It's good to see that you've been giving A's and B's on each of my chapters, though I'd be very interested in getting to be familiar with your marking criteria!

**YueMichiruNaragisawaMiko**… I hope I will never have to type that nickname again! Anyway, you've been one of the most dramatic reviewers I've had, almost as dramatic as Chan (a reviewer for my Street Fighter fanfictions and a good friend). Thanks for your continued support for this story.

**Ardor ****Mors**thanks for not only taking the time to read and review, but for checking out my website as well! It's surprising anyone would appreciate what's on there since the art was done like, years ago. But hey, it was a pleasant surprise.

I guess I haven't made it clear enough yet that there are currently no plans for a follow up Resident Evil story to this one. My stories follow my original character, Kenny. And the next chapter of Kenny's life features the Street Fighter universe, another Capcom game of much fame. There will be a few crossover elements from this story, but they are minimal. And I understand that those reviewers whose interests involve purely the Resident Evil element will not be interested in the following story, though I encourage everyone to give it a chance.

Resident Evil 4 will be out in … what was it … March of next year I believe, and I will definitely be buying it. I'm a hardcore Resident Evil fan, like most of you out there. And I'm sure that game will be giving me ideas for a follow up RE story to this one. Yet, I make no promises. But I do want to say that I'm happy to be finishing this story on a good note not with just the characters involved, but with the reviewers as well. I'll still be checking out the fics in the RE section and I'll be reviewing all the time. So … you haven't seen the last of me, muahahahaha!!!

And until then, I say thank you for one of the most wonderful writing experiences I've ever had, and adios amigos.

- noctorro (aka Josh)


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